


More Than Just a Pair of Sinking Ships (text only)

by Robespierre



Series: Robespierre's Paperlegends 2013 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, F/M, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Teacher-Student Relationship, no underage sexual contact, tagged underage just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robespierre/pseuds/Robespierre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a frustrated, unhappily married teacher. He used to love teaching, and he used to love Gwen, but now it feels as though happiness is an unreachable goal. Life finally starts to make sense again when he meets Merlin, a sixteen-year-old foreign exchange student.<br/>As their student/teacher relationship strengthens, Arthur begins to have decidedly unprofessional thoughts about Merlin, forcing him to reexamine everything he believes in: his career, his marriage, and even his own sexuality.</p>
<p>This is the text-only version of my Paperlegends 2013 story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Just a Pair of Sinking Ships (text only)

**Chapter One**

_And we've met this sorry end from a picture perfect start_  
 _The romance and the running down to disconnected hearts_  
 _Of two people sad and free_  
 _Who know they used to be_  
 _More than just a pair of sinking ships_

The students at Avalon High School knew quite a bit about the French teacher, Mr. Pendragon.  He loved the French language so much that his face lit up when he talked about it.  His classes were fun and he could always be counted on to tell some crazy story about his experience learning French, like the one about his first college professor’s extremely short shorts.  The students loved that he played Call of Duty and even brought his PS3 to school on the half-days before vacation.  He planned last year’s Mardi Gras-themed senior prom (now known as the school’s best prom ever) and received more than a hundred Facebook friend requests on the night of graduation (he wouldn’t friend students until he was no longer legally responsible for them).  One thing was for certain:  Mr. Pendragon was cool.

The teachers at Avalon High School didn’t know much about Arthur Pendragon, however.  It was only through the stories of their students that they learned anything about the man (and everyone knows that students’ stories are, nine times out of ten, not to be believed).  There was no one on the staff who thought of Arthur as a friend.  In the faculty room, he always spoke politely but was never the one to begin a conversation.  He sat alone at faculty meetings, eyes trained on the floor.  He attended the end-of-year picnics but only stayed for half an hour before slipping away.  The teachers came to two conclusions:  1) Arthur Pendragon was dedicated to teaching and 2) Arthur Pendragon was unhappy. 

 

* * *

 

_Here we go again._

Arthur felt like hitting his head on his desk.  Repeatedly.  The summer had passed in a blur and it was suddenly the first day of his eighth year at Avalon High School.  He’d arrived half an hour early, armed with an extra-large coffee and the seating charts he’d made at 3:30 that morning when it became evident that he was not going to be able to sleep. 

Just the thought of another year made him feel sick.  For as much as he loved the French language, Arthur despised being a teacher.  If he were able to just _teach_ , it might be better.  He loved nothing more than that “Aha!” moment when a struggling student looked at him and said, “Now it makes sense!”  But between disciplining students and dealing with incompetent administrators who arbitrarily enforced rules, it seemed as though there was little time to share his passion with the students.  Of course, that didn’t even take into account all the time he was forced to be, for all intents and purposes, a baby-sitter.

Like today.  Normally, students reported to homeroom for fifteen minutes at the beginning of the day for attendance and morning announcements.  However, during the first week of school, homeroom periods were _two hours and fifteen minutes_ long in order to deal with administrative tasks like locker assignments and schedule changes.  One hundred and thirty-five minutes of baby-sitting.

Sipping his coffee and hoping it would allow him to pass for a human being instead of a sleep-deprived zombie, Arthur glanced at his homeroom list.  There were two students listed who had been in his French II class last year, but he didn’t recognize any of the other twenty-three names. 

As the noise level in the hallways started to rise, he sighed, straightened his shoulders, and took up his position outside of his classroom door.  He spent the next five minutes high-fiving and fist-bumping former students, asking how their summer vacations had gone.  It was great to see some of these kids, he realized. 

_I really did miss some of them.  The good ones, anyway._  

There weren’t a lot of good ones.  Students with plans to continue on to universities were required to pass two years of a foreign language.  Every year, three quarters of the students he taught were putting in their time, just barely managing a passing grade.  In any given year, only about ten percent of his students chose to continue their studies beyond that required level.  And even in that ten percent were students who had only continued on because they thought Mr. Pendragon was cool, not because they had any real aptitude for foreign languages. 

All told, out of the approximately 150 students Arthur taught every year, he only really _liked_ about twenty.  Those kids were the ones who genuinely liked the class and wanted to do well.  They weren’t all tremendously talented, but they tried, and that was all he asked for.  Other students were tolerable (like the ones who did all of their work but never once participated in class), some he really didn’t know much about because they chose to sleep through every class (he never woke them up unless they were disturbing the rest of the class, figuring that they were only hurting themselves), and the rest Arthur actively disliked.  They were the kids who spent more time in in-school suspension than the classroom.  The kids who were quick to insult their classmates and make totally inappropriate comments in class discussions.  The kids who didn’t have a problem telling their teachers to “Fuck off!” or “Leave me the fuck alone!” 

_Speak of the devil…_

Arthur sighed as he noticed the student gleefully making his way to the row of lockers outside his classroom door.  Cenred, one of the students Arthur had spent the last year pleading with administration to expel, smirked as he opened the locker closest to Arthur. 

_Not right outside my door.  I can’t stand a year of this._

“What’s up, P?”

“Please show some respect.  It’s Mr. Pendragon.”

“Whatever.  So how’s your wife?  Still hot?  We all still think that those tits are amazing. ”

Arthur could feel the flush spreading from his cheeks down toward his neck.  It took every last bit of willpower he had to refrain from delivering a swift punch to the stupid brat’s nose. 

“That’s it!  You’re coming with me.”

Arthur grabbed Cenred by the elbow (secretly wishing that there were no security cameras pointed directly at him and that he could “accidentally” trip the jackass) and propelled him down the hallway to the office of the Dean of Students, Mr. Monmouth. 

Monmouth’s mouth dropped. 

“Cenred, the homeroom bell didn’t even ring and you’re already in trouble?” The boy dropped his backpack and settled onto one of the dean’s chairs. 

“I guess so.  What are you gonna do about it this time?”

Arthur turned to head back to his room, Monmouth’s scarlet face and bulging eyes the last thing he noticed before the shouting began. 

_Wow, this is already shaping up to be a great year_.

Just as he reached his door, the bell rang and the morning announcements began.  As he listened to the principal’s normal “Welcome Back!” speech, he glanced at his new homeroom.  The two students he knew smiled and waved at him.  Returning the wave, he quickly counted.  Only twenty-four.  _What kind of student misses the first day of school?_

He waited for the end of the announcements to introduce himself and explain his homeroom rules.  They were very simple: there was to be absolute silence during announcements, then students were free to talk provided they did not scream at each other, leave their desks, or touch each other.  _I can’t believe I need to give these sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds the same rules that they should have learned when they were five._

The next twenty minutes went quickly.  Arthur assigned seats, distributed schedules and locker assignments, and answered questions about room numbers and teachers.  He put aside the materials for the missing student, M. Emrys, and sat down to review and possibly revise his lesson plans for the week. 

His first impression of his homeroom was not a positive one.  It seemed as though three of the girls had lost their virginity over the summer and were very excited to talk about it, as well as the alcohol which led to it.  After his second attempt at reminding the girls that not only was their choice of topic extremely inappropriate, but that everyone in the room could hear them, he was forced to separate them, sending them each to a different corner of the room.  It might have seemed harsh, but the first day was so important for setting the tone for the rest of the year.  The students needed to understand that there were some things that Arthur just wouldn’t tolerate.  Now he’d need to fill out a form referring each of them to a guidance counselor to discuss sex and underage alcohol use.   

He had to send two boys to the dean’s office after their conversation devolved into something like, “Fuckin’ hell, that shit was so goddamn motherfuckin’ awesome.”     

The worst part is that Arthur certainly wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on their conversations.  In fact, he’d rather cover his ears and pretend he was all alone.  But when these kids were dumb enough to practically shout things that would certainly get them in trouble, he had no choice but to intervene.

The last straw for him was when he heard a student in the back of the room (he couldn’t tell which one) say, “This school is so gay.”

Arthur had a standard two-part response to any student using _gay_ as an adjective to describe something unpleasant. 

“I don’t know which one of you said it, but you all need to listen to me right now.  Number one: unless we know the school’s gender and that it is sexually attracted to schools of the same gender, it’s not gay.”

As usual, there were a few giggles.

“And number two: this is your warning.  If you ever say anything like that again, you will be out of here so fast your head spins.  And I will personally make sure you receive the strictest punishment that you possibly can.”

There was no response from anyone.  It was times like this Arthur was glad for his height and build.  He was taller than most of his students and a lifetime of participation in sports had carved his body into a solid block of muscle.  It made for extremely intimidating threats.

“Believe it or not, I am a patient man,” he continued.  “But I have to say that you’re not making a great impression on your first day.  Drinking, drugs, offensive language?  Think about what you’re saying before you open your mouths.  I’m not required to allow you to talk in here.  We could have a completely silent homeroom for the whole year, if that’s what you’d like.”

Nobody was stupid enough to say anything, but Arthur saw several sets of wide eyes, indicating that perhaps his message had sunken in.  He returned to his desk and his lesson plans, only to be stopped halfway there by ringing from the in-class telephone.

“Pendragon.”

“Hi, Mr. Pendragon, this is the guidance office.  We have Mr. Emrys over here with us.  He’s a transfer student and he has a ton of paperwork to fill out.”

“That’s no problem.  Thanks for letting me know.” “You’re welcome.  Oh, and Mr. Pendragon, he will also be in your French IV class today.” _No!_

“Oh.  Thanks again.” Arthur hung up the telephone even more depressed about his day.  On one hand, he was glad to have another student in his advanced class.  That made ten students and now they had an even number, making partnered activities much easier.  On the other hand, he hated transfer students.  Arthur was very proud of the French program that he had built at Avalon.  It was considered one of the best in the state due to its focus on oral communication.  Inevitably, transfer students struggled to keep up with Arthur’s curriculum, as most other schools emphasized reading and writing skills.  Most dropped the class after a few months.   

He had been particularly excited about this year’s advanced class.  The nine (now ten, he reminded himself) students had more potential than any others he’d ever taught.  Arthur also felt closer to this group of kids than any he’d ever taught.  Maybe it was the names, but he didn’t think so.  This was just a good group of kids. 

The kids had all been together for three years now and were very comfortable with each other.  They had their inside jokes (Arthur never understood why the mention of pink socks set them all into giggles) and knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses.  A foreign language classroom could be terrifying as students are forced to participate, worrying about vocabulary, verb conjugation and pronunciation.  His nine students, however, were finally not afraid to speak in front of each other.  Now they would have to adjust for a newcomer, and that could potentially ruin the comfort level between the students.    

_Damn, I hope this works out_.

The rest of homeroom and, in fact, the rest of the day, passed in a blur.  He did his standard “Welcome to French I” speech with his new classes, reviewed classroom policies with returning students, ate a truly terrible cafeteria lunch, and directed confused new students to their classrooms. 

Finally it was time for the last period of the day: his advanced class.  He’d been worried about it ever since homeroom.  He had worked very hard with these kids to get them to the level of proficiency they had reached today.  How far behind would this transfer student be?  Would his kids accept a stranger in their midst or would they retreat into their shells, once again hesitant to speak? 

It was only when the late bell rang that he realized that there were only nine students in the room, moving their desks into their usual circle.  His nine.  The transfer kid was nowhere to be found.

_Oh, well.  Maybe he dropped the class._

Arthur began with the only English he would speak in the classroom the whole year.  He reminded the students of the materials they would need, briefly explained the year’s goals, and had just begun to collect their summer assignments when a tall, dark-haired boy appeared at the door. 

“Désolé, Monsieur,” he said quietly. 1 

_Wow.  Wasn’t expecting that._

“Pas de problème!”2

He gestured at the many available desks and said, “Please have a seat, Mr. Emrys.  We’ve just finished the only lesson this year that will be presented in English.”

He turned to the rest of the class.  “Maybe you can all help?  Remind me, what did I just say?”

As the students called out course requirements, Arthur snuck a look at his new student.  He was tall and very thin with a shock of thick, dark hair.  His jeans and polo shirt (as required by school dress code) did not provide Arthur with any hints as to the new boy’s personality, but they did fit well and appeared to be new.  Emrys listened to the rest of the class with his head cocked slightly to the side and a slight frown on his face. 

“Well, I think that’s it.  Thanks, everybody.” 

Arthur checked the clock: nearly ten minutes left.

“All right, since we obviously have a new student this year, I think introductions are in order.  Let’s stick to English for a little longer.  Who’s first?”

Nothing.  They all froze as though he’d asked them to sing _La Marseillaise_ while tap-dancing.

“Fine, I guess I’m up.  I’m Mr. Pendragon and I’ve been teaching here at Avalon for eight years.  I love French and I’ve been speaking it for sixteen years.  I like reading, video games, hiking, going to the movies, and my dog.  Next?”

The new boy raised his hand shyly.  Arthur nodded at him, pleased to see him participating.  “My name is Merlin Emrys and I am a foreign exchange student from Austria.  I wanted to come to the U.S. because I hope to go to university here one day, so I need to practice my English.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. 

_Oh, no_.  _No way._

The other nine students had listened, open-mouthed, to Merlin’s introduction.  As soon as he was finished speaking, one girl began to giggle and the rest couldn’t help themselves.  The class erupted in laughter. 

Merlin looked panicked.  He blushed, looking around wildly as though to determine just what was so funny. 

Arthur couldn’t stand to see him look so miserable and was quick to intervene.  “Merlin, I promise you they’re not laughing at you.  Ladies and gentlemen, why don’t you give Merlin your names?”

His students grinned as they went around the circle and introduced themselves. 

“Lancelot.”

“Isolde.”

“Guinevere.”

“Gawain.”

“Percival.”

“Enide.”

“Morgause.”

“Mordred.”

“Bedivere.”

Merlin was looking more and more confused by the second.  Leon, a.k.a. Mordred, took pity on him and explained. 

“Okay, so this guy,” he pointed to Lance, “is actually named Lancelot.  And her name,” he nodded toward the girls’ section of the circle, “is really Isolde.  That guy over there is really named Percy.  And we’ve always liked to sit in a circle.  So the rest of us changed our names and became Mr. Pendragon’s Round Table.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, as if for confirmation.  “It’s all true.  Watch yourself, Merlin – these people are completely insane.”

Merlin’s lips quirked, as though to smile, but he quickly reined it in.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and Arthur smiled at the students that took the time to speak with Merlin instead of running out the door to their after-school activities and significant others. 

_Maybe this will turn out all right after all._

As Merlin was walking toward the door, Arthur called out, “Merlin!  Could I speak with you for a moment?” Merlin turned and Arthur could instantly tell that his newest student was worried, as though he expected Arthur to lecture him.

“Merlin, this whole Mr. Pendragon’s Round Table _thing_?”  He gestured toward the circle of desks.  “My first name is Arthur.” Merlin’s face split into an incredibly wide grin, his teeth flashing and his blue eyes lighting up. 

“Welcome to Avalon, Merlin." 

 

* * *

 

The next day was better.  And so much worse.    

He hadn’t slept well (mostly due to the fight he and Gwen had started over dinner that had left them both angry at bedtime), and the thought of another long homeroom had him annoyed before the day even started.  By the time the students arrived at 7:30, he had already downed four cups of coffee.

At the sound of the bell, students poured into the hallways and headed to their lockers.  Again, Arthur stood outside his classroom door, greeting students and scanning their outfits for dress code violations.  He spotted several girls whose shorts most certainly did not meet the “four inches from the knee or longer” rule and sent them to Mr. Monmouth.  

He wouldn’t mind so much if that was the extent of it, simply saying, “Go to the dean,” and being done with the whole ordeal.  But no, one of the girls had to start shouting at him right in the middle of the hallway. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my skirt!  What are you doing looking, anyway, you pervert?”

The students stopped dead, every one of them turning toward the sound of the shrieking girl. 

Arthur knew that he was in a very delicate situation.  There was literally nothing that he could say that wouldn’t get him in trouble.  This was one of the worst situations a male teacher could find himself in. 

“What is wrong with you?  You get off on looking at high school girls?”

“Sophia!”

Oh, thank god.  Hurrying down the hallway was Elena, one of the school’s counselors.  She grabbed Sophia by the elbow and ushered her toward the dean’s office, all the while snapping at the students lining the halls that there was nothing to see and that they should get to homeroom.

The second day of the year hadn’t even officially begun and Arthur was more than ready for it to be over. 

From behind him, Arthur heard a tentative, “Mr. Pendragon?”

He turned to see Merlin, carrying a stack of books and blushing.

“Do things like that happen often?”

“Unfortunately,” Arthur sighed.  “It’s not an everyday occurrence, but outbursts of that sort are fairly common.”

Merlin dropped his gaze to the books in his hands.  

“I’m sorry.”

A rush of affection washed through him for this boy, this obviously very sweet boy who had taken the time to stop and offer a sympathetic word to a teacher he barely knew. 

When he spoke, his voice was just a little bit rougher than normal.  “Thank you, Merlin.”

He wanted nothing more than to spend his two hours of homeroom getting to know Merlin, but was sure that so much attention from a teacher was not what any student wanted, especially a student trying to make friends in a new school. 

He was pleased to see some of the students interacting with Merlin during homeroom, engaging him in conversation about his school in Austria and his time so far in the United States.  Toward the end of the period, a round of “How do you say ___ in German?” started.  Avalon High didn’t offer German courses, so most of the students had never heard the language before.  Snorts of laughter erupted from all over the room as all of the students turned their attention to Merlin, giggling at the strange sounds of a language that was truly foreign to them.     

Arthur tried to focus on his lesson plans, but his attention was drawn again and again to Merlin as he smiled and laughed, speaking in both German and lightly accented English.  There was just something about Merlin that invited closer inspection.  Arthur had noticed his bright blue eyes and mop of dark hair the day before, but that was all.  Now that he had the time to look, he realized that Merlin was actually quite striking. 

Arthur’s eyes tracked over the curve of his jaw toward the square chin and the long line of his pale throat, but it was Merlin’s prominent cheekbones and pale pink lips that captured Arthur’s attention.  Merlin was honestly one of the most unique-looking people he had ever met.  It was hard for Arthur to drag his eyes away from him, but he realized that he had probably been staring for too long and turned his attention back to his paperwork. 

 

* * *

 

Those two-hour-long waste-of-time homeroom periods weren’t the only things about his schedule that annoyed him.  Every day, between his last two classes, Arthur had “bathroom duty.”  He was required to stand outside the boys’ bathroom, presumably as a deterrent to vandalism, fighting, and smoking.  At no other time in his life did he feel as idiotic as he did standing guard at the bathroom door, trying to breathe through his mouth so as to avoid the many interesting smells produced by teenage boys. 

He also resented the fact that he needed to stay there the entire time that students were moving from class to class, only able to leave when the late bell rang for the last period of the day.  The bathroom was on the other side of the building from his classroom; consequently, he was always two minutes late for his advanced class and it always took him a few minutes to shake the irritation he felt at having to play bathroom bouncer.   

So it came as no surprise that, when rounding the corner closest to his classroom, his first reaction to the laughter and shouting coming from the room was anger.  How could nine (now ten) of the best students in the school possibly be making that much noise?   

He was angry when he walked through the door, and became furious when he saw that a least half of his ten students were using their phones instead of working on the short writing prompt he had left on the board for them. 

“What do you think you’re doing?  You’re supposed to be the good kids, but it’s only the second day of school and you’re already breaking the rules by using your phones in class?  Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send all of you to Mr. Monmouth right now – ” 

Leon’s hand shot up, but he didn’t wait for Arthur to acknowledge him before he started talking.

“Merlin said you were having a bad day, so we were trying to decide which video to show you to make you smile.  Percy keeps fighting for panda sneeze, and the girls want those screaming goats, but I think I have a better one.”

_Wow_.

It was moments like these that made him stop and think about how special these kids really were – moments when he realized that they had come to know him so well over the course of their four years of high school that they recognized his moods and wanted to do something to make him feel better. 

“Thanks, everybody,” he managed to say, feeling oddly choked up.  “Sorry I overreacted, but you know that you can’t be using your phones in here.  Especially when you have work to do.  But I’ll let it slide for today,” he grinned at them, “if we can watch _all_ of those videos.” 

And that’s how Arthur’s day ended, huddled around his desk with his ten students, watching baby pandas, pattycake-playing cats, screaming goats, and (Leon was right) Arthur’s favorite – the Harry Potter Puppet Pals. 

It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he realized he’d been humming “Snape, Snape, Severus Snape” under his breath for the whole drive. 

And it wasn’t until he was lying in bed, half asleep, that he realized _Merlin_ had been the one to tell the others that he was having a bad day.  What a good kid.    

At least there was one thing to look forward to this year: his advanced class was going to be a lot of fun.   

Notes:

1\. Sorry, Sir.

2\. No problem.

 

**Chapter Two**

_Well darling now I’m sinking_  
 _And I’m as lost as I can be_  
 _And I was hoping that you could drag me from down here  
_ _Up to my recovery_

The first journal entries were a pleasant surprise.  Journals were more than just another graded assignment – they helped Arthur understand his students.  He could never predict what they would write about and enjoyed discovering what each of them considered important.  If a student was passionate about a topic, he would find a way to work it into class discussion.  If students were struggling in other classes, he pointed them toward tutoring opportunities.  And, most importantly, if anyone had complaints about _his_ class, he would address those complaints directly, either by changing his instruction methods or reevaluating his grading procedures. 

The first few journals were, predictably, about the students’ summer vacations.  Arthur read about the beach, sports camps, first jobs, and summer romances.  Despite some grammar made sloppy by two months without practicing the language, he was pleased with his students’ work. 

Other journals addressed the worries of senior year: applying to a university, finding scholarships, keeping up grades, and balancing schoolwork with extracurricular activities. 

And then he opened Merlin’s journal.

The students were required to write one page.  Merlin had written two and a half.        

In beautiful, flowing, _perfect_ French.

It was the best student work Arthur had ever seen.  He read the entry twice, once for content and once with an eye for errors. 

Merlin had written about his initial impression of the United States and his new school, drawing comparisons between his current situation and his life in Vienna.  Arthur could tell that Merlin was trying to keep a positive attitude, but it was clear that Merlin was more than a little upset as he wrote about some seemingly nonsensical rules at Avalon High, his difficulty making friends, his classes, and his host parents’ inexperience in dealing with foreign exchange students. 

Every week without fail, Arthur commented on every student’s journal, both on language and content.  It was usually easy – just adding smiling or frowning faces when appropriate, making suggestions for further entries, and slipping in little jokes whenever possible. 

He had absolutely no idea what to write for Merlin. 

He wanted to convey so many things: that _he_ didn’t care for some of Avalon’s rules, that some of Merlin’s teachers were so mind-numbingly boring that he knew he would never be able to sit through their classes, that it might take some time but Merlin would find friends, and that Merlin could always come to him with any problems he might have. 

He tapped his pen on his mouth for so long that his lips began to feel numb, but still couldn’t figure out what to say. 

“Arthur!”

He jumped as Gwen practically shouted his name.

“What?  Why are you yelling?”

“I said your name at least five times.  You’re totally lost in thought.  What are you doing?”

“Journals.  I have this new student in my advanced class, and I’m not sure how to respond to his entry.”

Gwen looked confused.  “Well, what do you want to say?”

Hours later, Arthur realized that their five-minute conversation about Merlin was the first time they had talked in months without fighting.  Feeling cautiously happier than he had in a long time, he scribbled his response in Merlin’s journal:

_I am very impressed with your work.  I studied abroad when I was a little older than you are now, and I remember that it took a few weeks for me to feel comfortable in my new home and school.  Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you have a wonderful experience here._

 

* * *

 

The next journal entry was troubling, as Merlin confessed that there were fleas all over his host parents’ house.  Arthur immediately reported this to the guidance office, and was told later that day that the student exchange company would be making an unscheduled visit to Merlin’s house. 

 

When he asked Merlin about it a few days later, Merlin told him that everything was fine. 

 

* * *

  

The school year was, for once, off to a good start.  The younger students seemed to be interested in the class and his advanced students had quickly fallen back into the school routine and were producing some high-quality work.  Mr. Daira, the new teacher he had been asked to mentor, was adapting beautifully to the environment at Avalon.  Other than needing to fill out the occasional tardy slip, Arthur’s discipline issues were practically nonexistent. 

If it weren’t for the constant friction between Arthur and Gwen, Arthur’s life would actually be going pretty well.  The fights and long silences were driving him to spend more and more time at school, determined to create new, engaging classroom activities that would truly help his students master the language.  He figured that if he couldn’t fix things with Gwen right now, at least he could focus his attention on the students – the people who really needed him.

It was becoming normal for him to spend his evenings in his classroom, not returning home until it was time to start cooking dinner.  This benefitted both of them: it gave Gwen some time alone after work to calm down from her stressful day and allowed Arthur to work without any distractions.

Today, however, he wouldn’t be returning home for dinner.  Instead, he was participating in Avalon’s Meet the Teacher Night.

It was always a colossal waste of time.  There were only ever two types of parents who attended: those who had studied at Avalon and wished to relive their high school glory days, and those who had very specific questions about their children that would be answered better with a phone call or private conference instead of in front of a room full of other parents.

Ten minutes before the program was scheduled to begin, Arthur rebuttoned the collar of his shirt, tightened the knot in his tie, and pulled on his jacket.  He scanned the room and found everything ready to go: his sign-in sheets, copies of his classroom policy, syllabi, and a tray of cookies.

Hope of even one second more of free time was dashed by the arrival of the first wave of parents – the annoying ones – pushing each other down the hallway while laughing and screeching things like, “Don’t run – you’ll get sent to the Dean’s office!”

For Meet the Teacher night, parents followed their children’s schedules, meeting with each teacher for ten minutes.  The parents first went to homeroom to sign in and receive their schedules. 

In Arthur’s eight years at Avalon, attendance for Meet the Teacher night had been steadily decreasing.  It was becoming a “good” year if he met with the parents of more than twenty of his one hundred and fifty students. 

This particular night, he welcomed two men and two women into his homeroom, each person attending for a different student, so four of his twenty-five homeroom students were accounted for.

He listened with half an ear as the public address system crackled to life and the principal read the annual welcome statement, reminded everyone of upcoming extracurricular activities, and invited the parents to move to their students’ first class.

Arthur’s first class of the day was an introductory class, taken primarily by the youngest students in the high school, so Arthur had the opportunity to meet the parents or guardians of ten of his students.

Halfway through his explanation of course requirements, a man and woman appeared at his door, looking lost. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, irritated at being interrupted.

The woman, whose outfit of skintight jeans and a _very_ low-cut, spaghetti-strapped top that was definitely not school-appropriate, strode into the classroom and practically yelled, “Yeah, we’re late.  We were supposed to be in this homeroom.”

Arthur turned his attention back to the room full of parents and asked them to excuse him for a moment.  He grabbed his homeroom students’ schedules and asked the couple which student’s schedule they needed to see.

“We’re Merlin’s host parents.”

Wow.  He wasn’t sure what he expected Merlin’s host parents to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this, he thought as he watched the woman grab the man’s arm to pull him into the classroom.  The man’s sweatpants and t-shirt (again, definitely not an outfit that would meet the students’ dress code criteria) were both emblazoned with the logo and slogan of a brand of beer, while his baseball cap proudly proclaimed that he loved eating at “Big Peckers.” 

These people looked as though they were arriving at school from two very different places – a couch for him and a strip club for her.

Arthur handed them Merlin’s schedule and pointed them in the direction of their first classroom.  After apologizing to the other parents, he returned to his discussion of classroom policies and grading scales.  He had only been speaking for a few moments when Merlin’s host parents appeared in the doorway again.

“Hey, how long is this class?” the woman asked.

At this, Arthur could see some of the parents starting to get annoyed.  He quickly told the woman that there were just three four minutes left and turned back to the classroom full of people.

“Well, we’re not walkin’ that far if the class is gonna be over, so we’re just gonna hang out here in the hallway.”

Okay, now he was getting pissed.

“That’s fine,” he said, this time turning his back to the couple.

A few parents had questions about how their children could best study for a foreign language, and Arthur was in the middle of listing all of the resources available to Avalon’s students when he was interrupted by a very loud, exceptionally irritating ringtone.

It was the couple in the hallway.  Of course.

And instead of immediately silencing the phone and being embarrassed to have caused such a disruption in the middle of a school function, the man pulled the phone from his pocket, checked the caller’s name, and announced loudly that, “I’ll call him back tomorrow,” before allowing the ringtone to finish its cycle.

That was it.  Arthur closed his classroom door, glaring at the couple, and tried to reengage the parents in discussion, but he could tell that all of them had simply given up on accomplishing anything in the remaining minutes of the class period.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, as he spoke of post-graduation plans with the families of older students and introduced himself to parents he had never met.  The cafeteria served some tepid coffee that had undoubtedly been sitting on the burner for a few hours, and some of the student council members tasked with guiding parents through the building came to him for homework help during the few minutes he had free during his “lunch” period.

Overall, it was going well.  He would have to send an email to the parents from first period, asking them to contact him if they had further questions, but if that was the worst thing that happened tonight, he could live with that.

That is, until his door banged open for the start of the last period of the evening, and he looked up to see Merlin’s host parents.  He had completely forgotten that he would have to deal with them again.

Oh, well.  Keeping in mind the fact that first impressions can be misleading, he gave them the benefit of the doubt and welcomed them into the classroom.

Two other sets of parents showed up, both of whom Arthur had known for years.  Arthur spoke with them first, informing them of additional requirements for their children’s last year of French class, and then sent them on their way so as to have more time to speak with Merlin’s host parents.

Arthur began by asking the couple (who he discovered were named Edwin and Nimueh Muirden) to fill out a small form providing their contact information and preferred method of communication in case any academic or behavioral issues arose during the school year.  He had just turned to grab a copy of the syllabus when he heard it: the words that let him know that he would never, _ever_ like these people.

“How do you spell Merlin’s last name again?”

Mr. Muirden laughed.  “How am I supposed to know?  I can’t even pronounce it.”

Arthur could feel himself getting angrier every second.  He was sure that his face was bright red and he probably sounded completely rude as he asked, “So how did you end up hosting Merlin?”

Laughing again, Mr. Muirden explained that “Some woman just called us on the phone.  Asked us if we wanted to have a foreign exchange student and said they’d pay us every month.  So we said okay.”

Arthur knew that he was in danger of saying something that could get him into real trouble, but he couldn’t help but continue his questioning.  “Do you have any children of your own?”

It seemed it was Mrs. Muirden’s turn to make Arthur furious.  “Nope!  We don’t know anything about kids, so this whole thing is really weird.”

She glanced at Arthur, shooting him a look that he was sure was meant to be conspiratorial but came across as vaguely constipated, and said, “To be honest, I’m not sure if I like having somebody else in the house.”

He had no idea how he managed to sit and have a civil conversation with those horrible people who were certainly not interested in the education of the child whose welfare they had been entrusted with.  But when the principal announced that the evening was ending, Arthur hadn’t yet punched anyone, so he considered the night a success. 

The whole drive home he had just one thought: _oh, poor Merlin._

 

**Chapter Three**  

_It's not even love anymore  
It's just a claim upon my soul_  

Their biggest problem – no, there was no _biggest_ problem.  It was a thousand little things all rolled up into one big mess of a marriage. It had been six years now, and each year had been worse than the one before.

He could no longer see any bit of the Gwen that he had fallen in love with.  She had changed so much after her father’s death.  Once so sweet and kind, she was now, more often than not, bitter and angry.  Their conversations were little more than screaming matches. 

Tonight was especially bad.

“I’m so sick of this, Arthur!  You spend all of your time doing schoolwork, but you say you don’t like being a teacher!  Either you’re lying to me or you’re lying to yourself, and it has got to stop!”

They had this fight at least twice a month.  It was so difficult for Arthur to explain to people how he felt about teaching.  On one hand, he truly did hate his job.  On the other hand, he loved the feeling of sharing his knowledge with the few eager minds he found at Avalon. 

But more than anything, Arthur was compelled to spend so much of his free time working because he _needed_ to.  All the students at Avalon deserved a teacher who gave it his all, not one who half-assed his way through uninteresting, unfulfilling lessons.  He had been hired to teach French and he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

Gwen couldn’t see that.  Her job was just a job, something that she could forget about at the end of the day and not think about again until the next morning.  Sure, sometimes she had to travel or plan big presentations, but she was able to work out all of those details in her office and never needed to bring anything home.  Arthur never stopped thinking about teaching.  Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night in a panic because he was afraid that his beginner students weren’t progressing as quickly as they should be. 

Arthur and Gwen just didn’t seem capable of understanding each other anymore. 

And now, Gwen was pushing him for the one thing that she _knew_ would fix their relationship and Arthur _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt would destroy it. 

Gwen wanted a baby.

Before they got married, they had discussed having children.  And though Gwen loved kids, she and Arthur both decided that they loved the freedom of being childless more.  They would be able to travel more, to take off at a moment’s notice, and they wouldn’t have to devote their schedules, attention, and money to the schooling and activities of a third person. 

Now Gwen had changed her mind.  Though she hated the phrase “my biological clock is ticking,” she surmised that that was exactly what was happening.  She had thought for a long time that she didn’t want children, but now her body was telling her that she did.  And soon.  So Arthur had to be convinced.    

“But, Arthur – you’re a teacher!  You must love kids!”

That was Gwen’s latest argument.  And, yeah, maybe he did like kids.  High school kids who could take care of themselves and who he didn’t have to see after the final bell rang for the day. Definitely not small children who were completely dependent on their parents. 

Arthur was selfish.  He wanted a life with Gwen, not one that revolved around a baby. 

 

* * *

 

Though Arthur’s students had the choice of filling their ten hour out-of-school conversation requirements in small groups or one-on-one with Arthur, all of them chose to go with safety in numbers and meet Arthur in groups of two or three. 

Except for Merlin.  He had appeared beside Arthur in the cafeteria and asked if he could put in some of his conversation time after school. 

Most students completed their ten conversation hours over a span of months, putting in fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.  Merlin, though – of course Merlin would be different.  He was unlike anyone Arthur had ever met.  The two of them spoke of life in Austria and the United States, teachers at Avalon, Merlin’s plans for the future, Arthur’s scholarly research (on Arthurian legend, obviously), and current economic and political issues. 

By the time either of them checked the clock, they were shocked to discover that they had been talking for more than three hours.  Arthur was impressed with Merlin’s grasp of both French and English, but he was absolutely blown away by Merlin’s maturity.  He seemed so much older than his sixteen years.   

Merlin was so much _fun_ to talk with.  He cracked jokes, shyly at first, occasionally asking for assistance with a grammatical issue or a vocabulary word, before gaining confidence to the point that they were spending as much time laughing as talking. 

They had started the conversation with Arthur at his desk and Merlin facing him in a student’s desk, but at some point Arthur had rolled his chair over to Merlin’s desk to point out a grammatical issue in their textbook.  They were so close that when Arthur make a joke about the school’s vice-principal, he could see Merlin’s pulse jumping along the line of Merlin’s neck as he threw back his head in laughter. 

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.  In that moment, Merlin was all long limbs and dark hair and shining blue eyes.  He was…he was _beautiful_.

Arthur had never once in his life described a man as beautiful, and he certainly had never entertained such a thought about a high school student.  But there was something about Merlin that captured his eye.  Merlin was so far removed from the typical high school student that it was disconcerting – he was fiercely intelligent, wickedly funny, confident, motivated, and, best of all, he actually seemed to like spending time with Arthur.      

Suddenly, so suddenly that he was afraid he was having some sort of out-of-body experience, Arthur had a vision of himself sinking his fingers into Merlin’s thick hair as he tipped back Merlin’s head to press kisses against the thin skin of his neck.

His book clattered to the floor, Merlin quickly crouching down in front of him to see if everything was all right.  

“Mr. Pendragon, is something wrong?”

“No, no,” he choked out.  “Sorry.  I thought…I thought I was going to sneeze.”

What a terrible excuse.  And judging from Merlin’s expression, he didn’t believe it for a second. 

 

* * *

 

Much later that night, Arthur lay in his bed, completely unable to sleep.  His head ached as though his thoughts were literally bouncing around his brain, and each one of Gwen’s occasional quiet snores forcefully reminded him that he was in bed _with his wife_.  _Wife_.

There had never been a man in his life that had given him pause; he’d never had to question his sexuality.  He had kissed a girl (he couldn’t even remember her name) for the first time at summer camp when he was ten years old and had never looked back.  With puberty came peeks into his father’s glossy magazines filled with naked women.  After leaving high school, though it seemed as though all of his friends were experimenting with both men and women, his eyes never strayed from Gwen’s generous curves to the straight lines of men’s bodies. 

He and Gwen had married just months after they received their university degrees.  And though it seemed like they couldn’t stand to be in the same room lately, Arthur was as attracted to Gwen as he had been when they met at the age of sixteen.  He loved the curve of her neck into her shoulder, the dip of her spine, the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest –

His agitation was quickly supplanted by arousal, so he pressed against Gwen and nuzzled at the back of her neck until she woke up and turned to him.  He lost himself in her curly hair and soft curves, very pointedly thinking about nothing but the sensation of his wife’s skin against his own.

 

* * *

 

It was so hard to return to work the next day.    

He hadn’t slept at all, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.  Even though he was aware, logically, that it was only a blip of the imagination, lasting for just a second, the memory of that moment lodged in his brain and played in a constant loop. 

And, fuck – the first person he saw?  Merlin. 

Sweet, smart, innocent, genuinely nice Merlin who had absolutely no idea what his freak of a teacher had been imagining the day before.  And of course, Merlin wanted to say good morning and to shake hands. 

The moment their palms touched, Arthur felt it again – that irresistible urge to pull Merlin in close, to memorize his scent, to taste his skin.  It was dizzying, and he could only hope that his confusion didn’t show on his face

 

* * *

  

Arthur knew himself.  He was smart, motivated, stubborn, quick to anger, and slow to forgive.  He was fairly attractive and occasionally funny.  He was Uther’s son and Morgana’s brother.  Gwen’s husband.

He was definitely not gay.

He was most definitely not attracted to sixteen-year-old boys. 

So what was going on?  Why was he having vivid thoughts of Merlin’s lithe body writhing under and around him?

Why was he waking up in the middle of the night, pillow wet with sweat and Merlin’s name on the tip of his tongue?

What was happening to him?

 

 

 

**Chapter Four**  

_And though it seems a little strange to me_  
 _People never really change, it seems_  
 _We're all broken boys and girls at heart_  
 _Come together fall apart_

 It was a completely normal day – annoying kids, overbearing parents- when he had the first inkling that something was wrong.

Merlin was completely silent during class, but Arthur never pushed his students in situations like that, acknowledging that everybody had the occasional bad day.  But when Merlin quickly left the room at the end of the day, instead of hanging around to speak to Arthur as he usually did, Arthur knew that something strange was going on. 

“Merlin, is everything okay?”

He wasn’t prepared for what he saw on Merlin’s face when he turned around.  Merlin wasn’t just having a bad day – he was miserable.  For a moment, Arthur thought that Merlin was going to talk to him, but Merlin finally just shrugged and said, “Everything is fine.”

And the next day, it seemed like everything was.  Merlin was his usual charming self, and it was like nothing had happened.  The next three days were more of the same – Merlin participated in class, laughed at Leon’s terrible puns, and fielded more “What is Austria like” questions in homeroom.

Arthur convinced himself that Merlin hadn’t been as upset as he remembered him being.  Merlin must have had a headache or have had trouble sleeping the night before.  It couldn’t be anything more serious than that, because if it had been, he wouldn’t have been back to normal so quickly. 

Maybe Merlin was homesick.  Of course!  Arthur could vividly remember how he had felt as a seventeen-year-old student alone in a foreign country.  No matter how nice people were, he always felt slightly left out.  It was so hard to break into previously existing groups of friends, especially when he had to concentrate so hard just to understand what people were saying. 

Merlin was obviously homesick.

Arthur believed that right up until the night that he graded that week’s journals.  Merlin’s was, as usual, very well done.  That was no surprise.  What _was_ a surprise, however, was the single sheet of lined paper tucked inside the front cover of the notebook.

_Mr. Pendragon-_

_I hope that it is okay if I write this in English.  I feel more comfortable in English than in French.  I really wish you spoke German, though.  It would be so much easier._ _You said that I should let you know if there was anything that you could do to help make this a good year.  If you don’t mind, I would really like some advice._ _Last weekend, I went out for coffee with two girls from my math class.  We were having a nice time until some boys who I have seen in the hallway sat down at the table next to us and started to talk loudly about the “three girls” at our table and how pretty we all were._ _One of the girls told me to ignore the boys and that they are just jerks.  We got up to leave, and as we walked by their table, one of them said, “Have a nice night, fag.”  I was so shocked that I didn’t say anything.  We just left.  
_ _ ~~Should I~~ _ _Do you think it is a good idea for me to confront him?  Or should I forget about it?  
_ _-Merlin_

 God dammit.  How _dare_ that kid say something like that to Merlin? 

He had to walk away from his desk before he ruined a pile of schoolwork by snapping the pen he was clutching so hard that the plastic was bending. 

Whenever he was this angry, there was really only one thing that he could do: strap on a pair of gloves and beat the hell out of the punching bag hanging in their basement.  Today he was so upset that he skipped the gloves and just hit, hit, hit until his knuckles were scraped raw.  Only then could he take a few deep breaths, return to his desk, and write a short note in Merlin’s journal. 

_Come see me after school?_  

 

* * *

 

Arthur had hoped that Merlin trusted him enough and would be comfortable speaking with him, but after four days, Merlin still hadn’t stayed after school to talk.  Arthur didn’t want to push, but he could see that Merlin was not entirely happy.

He had finally made up his mind to approach Merlin when something happened that made him wish he had not been so passive and had forced Merlin to speak with him immediately after reading that journal entry.

The school had been practically empty for almost an hour, the students having left the second the last bell rang, eyes gleaming as they fantasized about their weekends.  The pile of essays on his desk didn’t seem to be getting any smaller, no matter how many he graded.  In fact, he was pretty sure that somebody had to be sneaking extra papers into the stack when he wasn’t looking. 

The silence of the empty building was suddenly broken by the sound of a locker slamming.  Repeatedly.

Okay, maybe once was normal.  But when it started to sound like destruction of school property, Arthur felt compelled to check things out.

And, shit – it was Merlin.  And he was crying.

Merlin was completely oblivious to Arthur’s presence, focused as he was on trying to get his locker to close.  Arthur heard him say something softly in German, and judging by his tone, it couldn’t have been anything fit for polite company.

“Merlin?”

Merlin whirled around, eyes wide and face flushed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that Arthur could barely hear him, “I did not know anyone else was here.  And I’m sorry about the noise, but my locker will not close.”

“Merlin, don’t worry about it.  What’s going on?”

Merlin turned back to his locker.  “Nothing.  Everything is fine.”

Arthur wasn’t going to let one more day pass without getting Merlin to talk to him.  He cautiously placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, hoping to convey some sense of stability and security with the gesture.

“Please talk to me.”

Merlin just stared at his red and gold painted locker.

“Merlin, you obviously need somebody to talk to.”

_Wow, that didn’t sound patronizing at all.  Way to go, Arthur._

He tried again.

“It’s obvious to me that you’re not all right.  And I want to help.  So please let me.”

He could see the moment Merlin’s resolve to keep quiet crumbled.

“It’s just – ”

And Arthur’s luck being what it was, that was the moment that the school’s head custodian’s voice boomed out over the loudspeaker, instructing everyone to leave the school building as they prepared to lock it for the weekend. 

 

* * *

 

That’s how, fifteen minutes later, Arthur found himself tucked into a corner booth of Albion’s nearly empty ice cream shop, Merlin’s ice cream sundae sitting largely untouched as he stared at the stained tabletop. 

“You really didn’t have to do this.  I’m fine, I promise.”

They had been interrupted at the worst possible moment.  Merlin had been ready to talk, but the short car ride to the ice cream shop gave him time to collect his thoughts, and he had once again gone politely quiet, insisting that nothing was wrong.

Arthur wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Merlin, remember the second day of school?  You saw I was having a bad day, you told the other kids about it, and we ended up watching videos?  It was exactly what I needed, and I was so grateful to you.”

He paused, waiting for Merlin to meet his eyes before he continued speaking.

“You saw that I was upset, and you did such a nice thing for me.  Right now, I can see that you’re upset.  Please let me do something nice for you.  I’ll listen.  Please trust me.”

One tear slid down over Merlin’s sharp cheekbone.

“That boy at the coffee shop – he was the first one, but it’s happening all the time now.”

He wanted to press Merlin for all the details; he had a hundred different questions.  But he understood that he couldn’t push Merlin or he would shut down again.  It was up to him to set the pace and to decide how much to reveal. 

“Somebody…I don’t know who, but somebody decided that I must be gay.  I iron my clothing, I take care of my hair, and I don’t play any sports, so I must be gay.”

Merlin paused, stirring his slowly melting ice cream into a soupy mix of chocolate and vanilla. 

“And I’m finding that there are many students here who have a big problem with gay people.  Students call me a fag in the hallway.  They yell horrible things at me when I’m walking to school.  There are always notes in my locker calling me really offensive names.  When I’m in class – when teachers are around – everything is fine, but the rest of the day is…well, it is miserable.”

The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Merlin seemed a little less tense now that he had told someone.  Arthur was quiet mostly because he wanted to gather his thoughts before speaking so that there would be no misunderstandings.  But a small part of him was screaming, wanting nothing more than the names of those students so that he could beat them with his bare hands. 

This urge to protect Merlin was like nothing he had ever felt before.  Detentions and suspensions wouldn’t be enough for them – he actually wanted to hurt these bastards. 

Arthur clenched and unclenched his hands and counted to twenty before attempting to get some more information. 

“Will you give me some names?  Tell me who is doing this?  You know, there is an anti-bullying policy at Avalon.”

He could tell from Merlin’s expression, though, that getting any information would not be easy.  “I don’t want to tell on people.  That will make it worse, I think.”

“But if you just tell me, we can make sure these kids don’t do anything like this again,” Arthur pointed out.

Merlin was silent for a moment before shaking his head.  “Thank you for listening to me, but I’m not going to tell you any names.  I will deal with this on my own.”

Arthur was torn.  There wasn’t really anything he could do to get names from Merlin – if he didn’t want to tell Arthur anything, he didn’t have to.  If he pressed Merlin, he would surely shut down.  But more than anything, Arthur wanted to get his hands on these kids. 

“It’s all right,” he said, swiping a spoonful of Merlin’s ice cream.  He had no intention of eating it, but he hoped he could make Merlin smile.  “You don’t have to tell me.  But I need you to promise me two things.”

Merlin’s raised eyebrow indicated that he wasn’t thrilled about promising Arthur anything. 

“Number one: if this gets worse, you have to tell me.  If anybody hurts you, you need to tell me their names.  And number two: you have to tell somebody else.  Tell your host parents, tell a guidance counselor, tell another teacher – but tell somebody.  I’ll feel much better knowing that somebody else is looking out for you.”

A wobbling lower lip was the only outward sign that Merlin was uncomfortable with Arthur’s terms.  He seemed to consider the options for a few seconds, but ultimately agreed to Arthur’s requests. 

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

The next week, Arthur had trouble holding himself back from following Merlin in the hallways, trying to discover who would _dare_ to say such things to this sweet boy.  But he knew that extra attention from a teacher would only encourage further teasing, so he restrained himself.  Barely. 

He was surprised to see Merlin hang back after his classmates had left, figuring that it would take a little time before Merlin would be comfortable talking to him again. 

“Hey, Merlin – everything okay?”

“Not really.”

It was the first time that Merlin had, without prodding on Arthur’s part, said that something was wrong.  He was instantly on edge, scared of pushing Merlin away if he asked too many questions. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Merlin just stood in front of him, his eyes trained on the tile floor.  He was quiet for so long that Arthur knew he had to be changing his mind about talking. 

“Hey, how about if we go for a walk?”  That way, Merlin would be able to talk to him without having to look at him.  Maybe that would help. 

“I…okay.  That sounds fine.”

They ended up walking a few laps around the high school’s track before strolling along the nature trail behind the parking lots.  It was surprisingly peaceful, just walking next to Merlin, no sounds but the rushing water of the creek and the birdsong from high in the trees.  It was more than half an hour before either of them spoke. 

“I…I did what you asked.  I told my host parents.” 

Arthur wanted to tell Merlin that he was proud of him, but he held back, just allowing Merlin to speak when he felt comfortable. 

“It was bad.  They didn’t believe me.  I told them that one of the worst people was a girl who lives on our street, and they said that she is ‘such a nice girl’ and ‘would never do anything like that.’”

A girl who lived on Merlin’s street.  Arthur filed that information away for later use.

“And then they asked, ‘Well are you?  Are you a fag?  Because if you are, you deserve to hear stuff like that.’”

A choked sob forced its way out of Merlin’s mouth, and he stopped walking.  Arthur couldn’t have stopped himself even if he had wanted to – before Merlin could say anything else, Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug.

It was as though that was all Merlin had needed to finally let everything out.  He clutched the front of Arthur’s shirt, undoubtedly wrinkling it all to hell, but he couldn’t even begin to care.  The hot splashes of Merlin’s tears as they soaked through the material of his shirt made Arthur feel completely helpless; the only thing he could do was hold Merlin close and allow him to cry as much as he needed.

The voiced sobs died down, but the tears didn’t slow.  Merlin’s breathing was so ragged that Arthur feared he would hyperventilate.  He moved a hand up and cupped the back of Merlin’s head, dragging his fingers back and forth through the black hair that felt so much softer than it looked.  

“Merlin, Merlin, shh, it’s okay, I’m here, shh, everything’s okay,” he murmured against the top of Merlin’s head.  “You’re okay, you’re safe, I promise.”

When Merlin finally spoke, he made no move to release Arthur.  If anything, the fingers wrapped in his shirt held on a little bit tighter. 

“They were so horrible to me.  I didn’t know what to do.  And the worst part of all of this isn’t that people are harassing me or that my stupid host parents are bigoted idiots.  The worst part is…the worst part is that _I don’t know_!”

Arthur waited, but it seemed that was all the detail that Merlin was going to provide. 

“What don’t you know, Merlin?”

Arthur could recognize Merlin’s deep breath as the kind one took before making a confession. 

“I don’t know if I’m gay!” he spat against Arthur’s chest.  “I’m sixteen years old and I don’t know if I like boys or girls or even both!  And these _assholes_ here all think that they know me, but I don’t even know myself!”

Oh, Merlin.  Arthur’s study abroad experience had been tough at first, and unlike Merlin, he had fit in well; he was athletic, funny, and reasonably attractive, so he made friends quickly.  His biggest issues had been with the foreign language; he’d never experienced anything like what Merlin was going through.  For Merlin to face not just a foreign language, but an unfriendly home and harassment by other students – it was so much more than any one person could handle.  Especially a confused sixteen-year-old. 

He had no idea how long they stood there in the middle of the trail, but it didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered to him but helping this boy.    

 

 

**Chapter Five**  

_Ever feel like an awkward understudy_  
 _Thrown into a cast where you just don't get along?_  
 _Crowd and the crew all standing silent staring_  
 _And you can't shake the feeling that somehow you're doing it wrong_

Though he was focused on helping Merlin, he couldn’t help but think about being with him.  It was ironic that this boy who was making Arthur question his sexual preferences was so unsure of his own.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of himself as gay, though his growing fascination with Merlin seemed to be suggesting that it was a possibility.  

He knew that he couldn’t have been the first person in the history of the world who was struggling with an attraction to someone that felt, well, felt _wrong_.  Still, doing an Internet search for “how do I know if I’m gay” made him feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

To his surprise, he found many helpful websites.  Some offered personal stories of how people had come to discover their own sexual orientation, others provided advice for discussing the topic with family members, and some even offered quizzes designed to give the user an idea of how likely it was that he or she was open to the idea of same-sex relationships. 

Arthur bypassed the quizzes, though, in favor of doing some research of his own.  He was no stranger to RedTube, but this time instead of going for the most recently updated videos, he clicked on the link labeled ‘Gay.’  Figuring that if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right, he navigated his way to the top rated videos.  He automatically rejected any video featuring more than two guys (he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle watching two men together, let alone more) and any video tagged as “violent” or “brutal.” 

Okay, moment of truth.  He chose a video at random and clicked play.  The video took just seconds to buffer, two cocks rubbing against each other quickly filling the screen.

Nope, this one wasn’t going to work.  He had never considered his own penis particularly attractive, and it seemed as though he wasn’t especially turned on by the sight of anyone else’s.

He tried again, only to end up scrambling to turn down his speakers as two sweaty men enthusiastically fucked, pounding the headboard against the wall of their room.

The third video was better.  It began with the two men, fully clothed, talking about what they were going to do to each other.  The dialog was over the top, with lots of references to “your big dick” and “your tight hole,” but at least he got to observe the process from the start.  As the two men stripped out of their shirts and shorts, he realized that he was actually a little excited.  He wasn’t sure, though, if he was actually aroused by what he was seeing on the screen or if he was simply feeling that same sense of titillation he got from watching any porn.

He gave up on the video when the actors began to kiss, however.  It was so patently fake that he was almost embarrassed for them.  They kissed the way he had imagined kissing to work when he was twelve years old.  They smashed their lips together, making a lot of noise, their tongues coming out to prod at each other’s lips in the most unsexy way imaginable. 

It was disgusting.  Not the fact that that it was two men, but that it was so impersonal it felt like a joke.

He wasn’t willing to give up, though.  He turned to Tumblr, doing a search for “best gay porn blogs.”  The first few blogs he found had posted mostly photos and .gifs, and he was finally able to look at naked men without having to deal with the ridiculous posturing of the videos he had been watching. 

And it was…interesting.  Enlightening, even.  He could definitely appreciate some details: muscular thighs, defined abs, a round ass.  There were definitely parts of men’s bodies that attracted him.  And he was – well, he was okay with that.  He wasn’t freaked out, nor did he feel like he was doing anything wrong. 

_How about that_ , he thought.  _Maybe I am a little bit gay after all._

      

* * *

 

He thought for a long time about how to best help Merlin, and, realizing that he was not going to get any help from the school or travel company, he made a decision.  The way he saw it, there was only one possible solution: get Merlin to come live with him and Gwen.  He had what he considered the perfect speech planned, but Gwen remained unconvinced. 

“No way.  I want a baby!  What do we know about raising a sixteen-year-old?”

Arthur snorted.  “C’mon, it will be good for us – we’ll have to eat dinner together and do more things together.  It could really help us.”

Gwen was shaking her head, but she didn’t seem as sure as she had a few minutes earlier.  Arthur pushed harder. 

“Gwen, _please_.  We can’t let him stay with those people – they’re terrible to him.  He’s going to hate it here.  He’s such a nice kid.  He’s so smart and kind.  You’re going to love him.  You know we have the space for him and he can ride to and from school with me.”

Gwen sighed.  “Can I think about it overnight?”

The next morning, Gwen had to leave early, but there was a note on Arthur’s briefcase:  _Okay. We’ll do it._

* * *

 

Arthur had filled out the online form the day before, so it was a matter of just clicking the “Submit” button before he was one step closer to making Merlin happy. 

He didn’t know if he should tell Merlin what he was doing or if it would be better to surprise him.  Ultimately, it was Merlin himself who made the decision for him.  He hinted at another weekend alone, and Arthur decided that surprising Merlin in the middle of his long, lonely weekend would be the perfect gift for him. 

It didn’t take long to hear back from the exchange company; he had an email before lunch stating that his application was being reviewed and that someone would contact him later in the day. 

Anticipation made all of his classes seem as though they lasted for hours, and by the time the last bell of the day rang, he felt as drained as if he had spent the day wearing chainmail and swinging a sword like his namesake.  After flopping onto the soft cushion of his computer chair, he pulled out his phone and checked his email. 

_To: Arthur Pendragon_  
 _From: Essetir Exchanges  
_ _Re: Your Application_

_Mr. Pendragon,_  
 _Thank you for your interest in becoming a host parent to a foreign exchange student.  We regret to inform you that your application has been denied.  If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us.  
_ _Essetir Exchanges_

What?

He had no way of knowing how long he had been sitting, staring open-mouthed at his computer screen when he heard a loud knock on his classroom door. 

“Mr. Pendragon?”

He spun in his chair in the direction of the door.  It was one of his beginner level students, clutching his textbook.  Whatever the student saw on Arthur’s face obviously made her think twice about needing to speak to Arthur, as she actually backed away from him, eyes never leaving Arthur’s face like he was some kind of dangerous animal.

A near-hysterical laugh burst out of him.  Denied?  How could his application possibly be denied?  He and Gwen were ideal host parents! 

Well, there was one way to find out what had happened.  A phone number was listed at the bottom of the email. 

 

* * *

 

After nearly twenty minutes on hold, Arthur finally reached a real person instead of a pre-recorded voice. 

“Hello, my name is Arthur Pendragon and I’m calling about my application that was denied.”

“All right,” said the receptionist.  “I will transfer you to one of the case managers.  Please hold.”

“No! I was just on hold for – ”

But it was too late.  The horrible elevator music was back in his ear as he was put on hold again.

Ten more minutes of waiting.  Ten more minutes in which he got angrier and angrier.  By the time his call was finally answered, he was practically spitting in fury.

“How could you deny my application?”

“Mr. Pendragon, there are many things that we take into consideration when viewing applications.  To begin, we think about other children in the home.  You have no children, and therefore there will not be any children around the exchange student’s age in the home.”

“Now wait,” he said, “the people that Merlin is staying with now don’t have any children.  How did they get accepted?”

“As I said, Mr. Pendragon,” she continued as though he hadn’t said anything, “there are many things we consider in the application process.  The fact that you know nothing about raising children is just one negative factor in your application.  You also live in a different school district from the student that you are asking to host, so any children that he meets in the neighborhood will not attend the same school as he does.  This can be very alienating for our students.”

“That is ridiculous!  Merlin would be so much happier living here than he would be with those awful people – ”  

“And finally, Mr. Pendragon,” (wow, he was really starting to hate this woman) “there is one important fact that cannot be overlooked.  You are simply not old enough to host a foreign exchange student.”

“Are you crazy? How could I not be – ”

“Company policy states that all host parents must be at least thirty years old.”

He couldn’t even pretend to be polite any longer.  Grinding his teeth together, he hissed, “I’m going to be thirty in four months.  I have been a teacher for eight years.  I am offering to host a student who is miserable in his current placement – a fact you are well aware of – because I believe my wife and I can provide him with a clean, peaceful home environment while challenging him intellectually and exposing him to the culture of my home country.”

“Mr. Pendragon – ”

He was so frustrated that tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. 

“I care about Merlin, which is more than I can say for his current host parents _or_ this ridiculous company.  We want to give him a real home here.” 

His voice broke.  “ _Please_.”

She was silent for long enough that his heart leapt wildly – she was considering his argument!  There was still a chance for him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pendragon, but you do not meet all of the requirements necessary to be a host parent.  If you have any other questions, please let us know.”

And then she hung up. 

_She hung up on him_.

Arthur grabbed the ceramic jar full of pencils and pens from his desk and hurled it against the far wall of his classroom.  The resulting smash didn’t help abate his fury, but it did force him to calm down, as it drew the attention of the teacher in the classroom next to him. 

“Arthur,” she cried from the doorway, “what happened?  Are you all right?”

Deep breath.  Deep breath.

“I’m okay,” he told her.  “Just a little accident.”

Of course, he cut himself while gathering the shards of pottery.  Blood smeared all over the floor that he was trying to clean and he was tempted to dump the whole mess, blood included, into an envelope and mail it to Essetir Exchanges.

 

* * *

 

_Oh, Merlin._

Arthur had really thought he could help.  He’d wanted to be Merlin’s rescuer, the person who plucked him from that terrible place he was living in and helped him find a real home.  All he wanted was for Merlin to be happy, to enjoy himself in his year abroad.

He was pretty sure that any hope of that happening now had disappeared. 

  

**Chapter Six**

_Oh my broken battered body_  
 _In the days when I was younger_  
 _Used to fix itself quick sharp_  
 _After every slip and stumble_  
 _But these days I'm collecting scars that don't seem to fade_  
 _Cuts and bruises that won't go away_

“Why is it that you’re never ‘in the mood?’  Isn’t thirty a bit too early for erectile dysfunction?”

“Fuck you, Gwen,” he hissed.

Of course she would do this.  Insult him instead of listening when he tried to tell her how he was feeling, assume that any problems in their relationship were all his fault.

“You know that’s not the problem!  I keep telling you, nothing is wrong with me!  I’m just not always interested in sex when you are.”

“Well, if we’re going to have a baby, then you need to be ready when my temperature is right.”

“Dammit, Gwen, we are not having a fucking baby!”

 

* * *

 

Of course, on the night that Arthur _finally_ managed to fall asleep soon after lying down, the phone rang at 1:45 in the morning.

“Mr. Pendragon?”

He tried to answer, but he had to clear his throat a few times before anything would come out. 

“Who is this?”

“I’m calling from Albion Central Hospital.  Merlin Emrys has been treated here, and he suggested that we call you when we were unable to contact his host parents.”

Arthur was out of the bed so quickly that he whipped all of the blankets off of Gwen.  She tried to reclaim them, muttering in her sleep.

“What happened?  Is he okay?”

Arthur already had his feet jammed into a pair of slippers before the woman could answer. 

“He is perfectly fine – just a little banged up.  Because he is under eighteen, though, we must release him to an adult.  Will you be able to pick him up?”

Arthur was already shaking Gwen awake.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes!”

Gwen blinked at him in confusion.

“Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.  Please drive carefully.” 

He dug in the dish on top of his dresser for his wallet and keys, explaining to Gwen what was happening.

“Merlin got hurt and they can’t contact his host parents.  I have to go pick him up at the hospital.”

Gwen gasped.  “Is he okay?”

“They promised me that he is.  ‘Just a little banged up,’ she said.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Gwen asked, already sliding her legs off the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry about it.  You have to leave early tomorrow for the airport.  I’ll let you know when I get home.”

 

* * *

 

He tried to keep to the speed limit, he really did, but every bit of his brain was screaming at him to get to Merlin as quickly as possible. 

Albion Central Hospital was half an hour away from Arthur’s home, which gave him thirty minutes to create increasingly tragic stories as to what had happened to Merlin.  By the time he arrived in the emergency room, he was half convinced that he was being lied to and that he would find Merlin unconscious, kept alive only by machines. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.  It must have been a slow night in the ER, because he was the only person there.  A receptionist asked, “Mr. Pendragon?” and, at his nod, pointed him toward the door marked “Patients and Visitors Only,” handing him a slip of paper that read _Merlin Emrys, Room 14._

He could hear Merlin’s quiet voice as he opened the door, and relief crashed over him.  At least Merlin was awake and speaking.  He followed Merlin’s voice to Room 14, and found Merlin sitting on a bed, fully clothed and appearing unharmed, speaking in German with a white-haired man wearing pale blue hospital scrubs.

“Gaius?”

Arthur had no idea that Gaius, his father’s best friend, was still working at the hospital.  He had been talking about retiring for several years. 

“Arthur!  What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Merlin.  They couldn’t reach his host parents, so I’m taking him home.”

“Ah, I see.”  Gaius said something in German that had Merlin giggling, and then turned back to Arthur.  “Can I speak to you in the hallway, please?”

The second the door was shut behind them, Arthur asked, “Gaius, what happened?  Is he okay?”

Gaius sighed.  “He won’t tell us what happened, just that he fell.  He was actually walking here when some Good Samaritan stopped to give him a ride.  He has ten stitches in the back of his head, and he is suffering from a concussion.” 

“Shit.  He’s being bullied almost constantly at school.  Do you think somebody did this to him?”

“Arthur, I don’t know.  I’ve tried everything, but he doesn’t want to talk.  I can’t make him.  Anyway, he has a concussion.  He needs to be woken every two hours.  Does he have someone at home who can do that for him?”

“He does.  He’s coming home with me.  I don’t trust his host parents at all.  I’ll take care of him.” 

“You’re a good man, Arthur,” Gaius said, clasping Arthur’s shoulder with one gnarled hand.   “I’m very proud of you.” 

Without allowing Arthur time to reply, Gaius was swinging the door open again.  “Come on, Merlin, it’s time for you to go.” 

 

* * *

  

Neither Arthur nor Merlin spoke as they made their way back through the empty hospital hallways to the parking lot.  When they finally reached the car, Arthur made sure Merlin was buckled in and as comfortable as possible before putting the car in gear and driving away. 

There was no traffic this late at night – now early in the morning, he supposed.  Merlin was tense, obviously unwilling to talk, and Arthur would give him these few minutes of silence if that was what Merlin wanted. 

It wasn’t until Arthur didn’t make the turn toward Merlin’s house that Merlin spoke, his voice rough.  “Where are we going?”

“Your host parents aren’t home.  You have a concussion and you need somebody to wake you every two hours.  I’m taking you home with me.”

“You don’t have to do that – ” Merlin started to complain, but stopped at the glare Arthur leveled at him.  He hung his head and whispered, “Thank you.” 

 

* * *

 

Getting Merlin settled in their guest room was surprisingly easy.  Before Arthur had even managed to point out the light switch and the chest full of extra blankets, Merlin had rolled onto his side and fallen asleep fully clothed.

Arthur took a few minutes to slip back into his own bedroom and explain the situation to Gwen before returning to the guest room with a book and his phone.  He set the alarm for two hours and opened the book that Morgana had recommended but he had never had time to read, knowing full well that he would never be able to sleep with an injured Merlin to watch over. 

Having Merlin in his house was a little surreal.  Arthur couldn’t help but pull his chair right next to the bed, ostensibly keeping a close eye on Merlin in case his breathing should change, but really because he couldn’t bear to be physically separated from him.  For most of the night, he sat in the chair, tracing his fingers back and forth across the back of Merlin’s hand. 

But when Merlin let out a pathetic whimper of pain in his sleep, Arthur moved to sit next to Merlin, leaning back against the headboard and running careful fingers through the hair on the undamaged side of his head.  Arthur’s heart swelled when Merlin whined and turned to him, snuggling up against his leg.  Merlin seemed so starved for comfort, so starved for human contact, that Arthur couldn’t help but slide a pillow across his thighs and shift Merlin’s head to his lap.  Arthur touched him as much as he could, with not a trace of sexual intent, but simply to let Merlin know that he was there, that Merlin had one person who would always look out for him. 

After nearly two hours, his back and legs were complaining too much to remain in bed any longer.  He eased Merlin’s head back onto his pillow and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. 

 

* * *

 

Merlin finally woke on his own.  Gwen had already left for the airport and Arthur was making breakfast when Merlin came down the stairs, squinting a little in the mid-morning sunshine. 

Arthur wordlessly offered him a plate of eggs and bacon, and they sat down together at the dining room table to share the meal in silence.  But by the time they had finished, Arthur wasn’t able to postpone it any longer. 

“Merlin, do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

“It’s nothing.  I just…I just fell and hit my head.”

Merlin was a terrible liar.  Arthur just stared at him, an eyebrow raised, until he finally broke.

“All right, I didn’t fall.  Somebody pushed me.  I don’t know who it was.”

“But you know who was around you, right?”

“I know most of their names.”

“Merlin, this is too much.  We have to go to the police.”

“No!” Merlin shouted.  Arthur, who had never heard him raise his voice, was shocked at the outburst.

“This is no longer just mean words and anonymous notes.  This is physical violence.  We have to –”

Merlin cut him off with, “I will not talk to the police.  If I get into any trouble with the police, I will be thrown out of the study abroad program and my parents will lose all of the money that they paid.”

“But they _hurt_ you, Merlin.  You have to see that –”

“No.  I refuse to go to the police.”  He glared at Arthur, suddenly angry.  “And there is nothing you can do that will make me.”

Arthur had already known that Merlin was strong-willed, but he had never before been faced with the full force of Merlin’s glare.  He was used to thinking of Merlin as this lovely, ethereal creature, and the defiance that he saw in Merlin’s eyes was shocking.

He had to do something.  There was no way that this could go unpunished.  But how could he get Merlin to cooperate? 

Sometimes he forgot that Merlin was sixteen years old – he always seemed so mature.  It was easy to think of him as an adult trapped in a teenager’s body instead of the young man that he was: a young man who was trapped in a miserable existence in a foreign country, facing prejudice and now violence, unwilling to trust anyone. 

“Okay, no police.  But we have to tell somebody.  What about…” Arthur suggested hesitantly, “what about the school?  Do I have your permission to tell the principal?”

Merlin was silent for so long that Arthur was afraid he wasn’t going to answer.  He was ready to ask Merlin again, to try to make him realize that he couldn’t keep this to himself, when Merlin finally said, “No.”

“No?  But we have to tell someone!  Christ, Merlin, somebody knocked you down so hard that you cracked your head open and got a concussion!  You might be the bravest person I’ve ever met, but you can’t do this on your own.  You have to let us help you!”

“No.  I don’t want you to tell the principal.” 

It was clear that no argument was going to sway Merlin.  Arthur wracked his brain – should he call Merlin’s parents? Should he go behind Merlin’s back and contact the police?  He was on the verge of shouting at Merlin, something that he knew in the back of his mind wasn’t good for a person in a fragile emotional state, let alone someone with a head injury, but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to figure that out, because Merlin fixed that steely gaze on him again and said, “I don’t want you to tell him.  _I_ will.” 

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, they’re not getting in trouble?”

The principal shook his head.  “Arthur, there is simply no evidence that these students have done anything wrong.  I have spoken with all of them, and with many of their friends, and they all deny ever having misbehaved in any way.  In fact, none of them were even in that parking lot on Friday night.”

Arthur clutched the arms of his chair, trying desperately to keep himself from simply reaching across the desk and choking his boss to death.

“You spoke with them?  And their _friends_?  What did you think they were going to say?  I can’t believe you’re letting them get away with this.  You’re supposed to care about your students.  What is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Pendragon, please watch your tone.  As you well know, school policy states that we will not punish one student simply on the word of another.”

That was it.  He stood, rising from the chair so quickly that it crashed onto its back.   

“I’m leaving for the day.  Charge me with a personal day, dock my pay – whatever.  I just need to get out of this _fucking ridiculous place_!” 

Screaming at his boss was not the brightest thing he could have done, but physical violence certainly would have been worse.  Arthur’s vision was growing dim around the edges and the hand holding his car keys was shaking – he could not remember being this angry in his whole life. 

It wasn’t until he was in his car, having punched the steering wheel so hard that he was afraid the airbag was going to explode, that he realized his rash action would have a consequence beyond any loss of pay or note in his file: he had left Merlin. 

By the time he had reached his house, he had a plan in place.  He called in a favor with Elena, the guidance counselor he knew the best, and asked her to call Merlin into her office, and then to call Arthur as soon as Merlin arrived. 

It wasn’t even five minutes before Elena was telling him, “Here’s Merlin.”

“Hey, Merlin.”

“Hi.”  Merlin sounded as though all of the spirit had gone out of him, like there was nothing beautiful or joyous left inside. 

“Listen, I just wanted you to know that I left school early.  I screamed at Mr. Aredian, and I was afraid that if I didn’t leave, I was going to do something really stupid.”

“It’s okay.”

Again, that disturbingly flat tone had Arthur ready to go back.  But he knew that security would never let him back into the building after the way he had left. 

“No, it’s not okay.  I should have stayed there to fight for you.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.  Really.”

“Merlin, I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll try to fix things.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a rustling noise as Merlin handed the phone to Elena, followed by the sound of the door closing as Merlin left the office.

“Arthur?  What’s going on?”

He explained the situation as quickly as he could, surprised to hear that the principal had never even informed Elena of the “alleged” bullying situation. 

“Holy shit.  Can I do anything?  Can I call anybody?  What about the travel abroad company?”

“Thanks, Elena, but I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that they were true.  There was nothing left that he could do to help his Merlin. 

 

 

 

**Chapter Seven**  

_The single saddest thing that I ever heard you say_  
 _Was on the day I told you I had to go away_  
 _You said, “Darling baby please, if you really mean to leave,_  
 _Can't I just hold you for a little while longer?”_

 

“Arthur!  Arthur!”

Every student in the hallway stopped talking and turned to stare at Elena, who was running toward Arthur’s room. 

“Art- I mean, Mr. Pendragon!”

He waited until Elena got to his door before he hissed at her, “What’s wrong?  The kids are starting to think you’re crazy.”

Arthur pulled her into his room, remembering to keep the door open behind him.  No rumors in a high school spread faster than one teacher dating another. 

Elena was still out of breath from her sprint down the hallway, but she managed to gasp out one word: “Merlin!”

Oh, no.  No no no.  Was he hurt?  Was he lying in a hospital bed, finally hurt so bad that it was something he wouldn’t be able to heal?  Or had Merlin hurt someone?  Finally became so fed up with the tormenting and lack of justice that he took matters into his own hands?

He didn’t even realize he had grabbed Elena’s arms until she asked him to let her go.

“I’m so sorry!  But Merlin!  What’s wrong?”

She glared at him, rubbing her forearms to restore circulation. 

“He’s leaving.  I just got his paperwork this morning.”

Arthur could feel all of the blood drain from his face.  He actually had to put a hand on the wall to keep his knees from buckling. 

“He’s going home?” he whispered.

He had no idea what Elena saw on his face, but she was instantly at his side, an arm around his waist. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur.  I know you tried.  It’s not your fault.”

Except it felt like it was. 

  

* * *

 

Arthur tried to act as though nothing was wrong when Merlin refused to meet his eyes for the entirety of the homeroom period.  But as Merlin continued to stare at his desktop for fifteen minutes, Arthur couldn’t help but call him over.

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes were wide.  He was scared of something.  What could he possibly have to be scared of in homeroom?  Arthur had tried to make this the most welcoming environment possible and he didn’t think that any of the students in there had been the ones bullying Merlin – oh, he realized, Merlin didn’t want anyone to know that he was leaving.  That made sense; the bullying would certainly have increased.  But he still needed to speak to Merlin, to find out if it was really true.  

“C’est vrai?  Tu vas partir?”1  

The relieved smile Merlin gave him indicated that he had guessed correctly.  Nobody sitting near Arthur’s desk spoke French, so nobody could overhear their conversation. 

“Oui, je vais partir.  Ce samedi.”2

But that was only two days away!  Merlin, the one bright spot in his life, was going to leave him more than half a year before he was supposed to.  And in that moment, though he knew that Merlin was the one being hurt here, that Merlin was the one whose life was miserable, Arthur felt like the wounded party. 

He turned back to the pile of papers on his desk.  “D’accord.  A tout à l’heure.”3

 

* * *

 

That night, frustrated by his failure to help Merlin, Arthur couldn’t sleep.  After hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up and went downstairs to his computer.  He needed to send an email to his old college roommate congratulating him on his recent promotion, but when he pulled up a blank message box, he found he had nothing to say. 

He scrolled through his bookmarks, idly clicking on cartoons that he was sure he had once found funny but now couldn’t remember why.  Near the bottom of the list was a site he couldn’t remember bookmarking.  He had simply labeled it _Research Questions_.     

It was – oh shit, it was the gay porn blog he’d bookmarked a few weeks earlier.  He felt like crying. 

He had picked this one because it seemed to provide the best mix of professional and amateur photos.  No, that was a lie.  He had gravitated toward this particular blog because one of the models who frequently appeared in photos was slim, lithe, dark-haired, and reminded him of Merlin. 

That model now appeared in a picture on the blog’s sidebar.  Scrawled across his chest in what looked like lipstick was the phrase _Click for my videos_. 

He had videos?  Maybe this was a sign that Arthur should give videos another shot.  He opened the first one on the list, and his jaw dropped.  The man who was pinning the Merlin look-alike face down onto the bed was blond and broad-shouldered – Arthur could have been looking at himself. 

The idea that he could ever use his full weight to hold Merlin down was so arousing that Arthur had slid his hand into his shorts and wrapped it around his cock before he even noticed what he was doing. 

The blond onscreen tipped Merlin’s hips up toward him, stroked himself once, and must have slid into Merlin’s body, judging by the quiet moan that he let out.  This video wasn’t like others he had seen; instead of focusing on close-up shots of the man’s dick slamming into Merlin, the camera operator moved to the head of the bed to showcase the men’s faces. 

His Merlin’s face was slack with lust, eyes barely open and mouth parted as he eschewed typical porn moaning and let out tiny whimpers.   The other man (and he couldn’t help but cast himself in this video, imagining that he was the one grinding Merlin flat against the bed) leaned down and aligned their bodies from head to toe, his groin perfectly nestled against the curve of Merlin’s ass.  He wasn’t thrusting wildly; instead, he rolled his hips in small circles as though unwilling to separate their bodies at all.  It was so intimate that Arthur couldn’t have taken his eyes off the two men for anything.    

It was all over for him when his on-screen doppelganger stretched both of his hands up to reach Merlin’s, slotting their fingers together as he whispered, “So perfect.  Like you were made for me.  Love you.”

Three things became immediately clear: watching two men have sex _definitely_ aroused him, his idea of dirty talk was more soul-baring than graphic, and he would give anything for the opportunity to do and say those things to Merlin.  

Notes:

1\. It’s true? You’re going to leave?

2\. Yes, I’m going to leave.  This Saturday. 

3\. Okay, see you later.

 

 

**Chapter Eight**

_Let go of the little distractions_  
 _Hold close to the ones that you love_  
 _‘Cause we won’t all be here_  
 _This time next year_  
 _So while you can_  
 _Take a picture of us_

 

Arthur talked Gwen into hosting a party for his advanced students to say goodbye to Merlin.  Gwen stopped on her way home from work to pick up enough pizza for ten teenagers and two adults while Arthur pulled out all of their board games, cleaned the bathroom, and dragged all of their chairs into the living room. 

The students showed up in small groups, two or three at a time, depending on how many of them had their own cars.  When Leon and Merlin finally arrived, the boys were either already demolishing the pizza, playing with Arthur’s dog, Excalibur, or setting up a game of Monopoly.  The girls were crowded around Gwen, asking her one question after another. 

“Merlin!” everyone yelled.  “C’mon, get some pizza and pull up a chair!”

Merlin’s smile, not quite as bright as usual, still lit up the room as he skirted through the ring of chairs and made his way toward the pizza.  He stopped next to Arthur, nodding a quick hello and grabbing a plate.  Plate successfully loaded with pizza and potato chips, he leaned in Arthur’s direction and looked up at him. 

“I was hoping that I would get to talk to you tonight.”

Arthur reached out and grabbed Merlin’s shoulder.

“We’ll talk later.  You can stay as long as you like and I’ll take you back home.  Go have fun, okay?”

Merlin’s smile was back in full force. 

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, the pizza boxes lay crumpled and empty on the kitchen counter and the kids had just finished what seemed like their twentieth round of Twister.  Throughout the evening, Arthur had watched Merlin say goodbye to each of his classmates.  Most of the girls shed a few tears, and even some of the boys were looking a little red-eyed.

These kids were really going to miss Merlin.

Games finished, pizzas demolished – it seemed a natural time for the party to end.  Hugs were exchanged all around as the students slowly returned to their cars until only Leon and Merlin were left. 

Arthur gently led Gwen to the kitchen, wanting to give the two boys a chance to say goodbye in private. 

“They’re good kids,” she whispered, smiling at him.

He smiled back.  “They really are.”

The two of them began to clean up, making slightly more noise than they normally would so that the boys wouldn’t feel they were being spied on.  Arthur and Gwen worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, not fighting for what felt like the first time in months. 

Leon appeared in the doorway.  It was obvious that he had been crying. 

“Thanks for everything, Mr. and Mrs. P.”      

“It was no trouble, Leon.  We’re always glad to have you here,” Gwen said gently.  “Come on, let me walk you to your car.”

Arthur shot a grateful look at Gwen, thanking her for taking care of Leon.  He knew that she wouldn’t let Leon leave until he had calmed down enough to drive. 

A soft sniffle from the living room reminded him that Merlin was still there.  Arthur found him sitting on the floor in front of the couch, knees drawn up and head in his hands.  Excalibur was sitting next to him.   

He slid down onto the floor on Merlin’s other side, nudging Merlin’s shoulder with his own. 

“You okay?”

Merlin nodded but didn’t lift his head.  When he spoke, it was in a choked whisper.  “I didn’t know it would be this hard to say goodbye.  I want to leave, but it’s so hard to actually do it.  I’m going to miss Leon so much.”  He tipped his head toward Arthur, and Arthur’s heart broke to see the tears streaming down Merlin’s cheeks.  “Did I make the right decision?  Or was it just the easy choice?”

“Hey, hey.”  Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders.  “I can’t tell you what’s best for you.  Only you can make that decision.”  He paused.  “But if it helps, I can tell you that the decision is the one that I would have made in your place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, Arthur’s fingers moving lightly against Merlin’s arm, and Merlin’s body a warm weight against Arthur’s side.  For the moment, there was nothing to say.  Arthur was fully aware of how different his life was going to be without Merlin in it, but now was not the time to dwell on his sadness; it was the time to simply offer comfort to this wonderful, beautiful boy who had come to mean so much to him. 

He heard Leon’s engine start, and a few seconds later, Gwen walked back into the living room.    

Arthur mouthed, “Is he okay?”

Gwen nodded, then gestured toward Merlin.  Arthur nodded as well. 

“Well, boys,” Gwen said, “I think I’m going to get into the hot tub.  Want to join me?”

Arthur nudged Merlin.  “What do you think?  I can loan you some shorts if you’re interested.”   

Merlin looked up for the first time in nearly five minutes, smiling shyly.  “I’ve never been in a hot tub before.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur went outside ahead of the two of them to remove the hot tub’s cover while Gwen found towels and a pair of Arthur’s swim trunks for Merlin.  After wrestling the cover to the ground, Arthur considered returning to the house to change, but it was too damn cold and he wanted to be warm again – _immediately_ – so he stripped down to his boxer-briefs and slid into the steaming water. 

The temperature was glorious.  He stretched once, rolling his shoulders and letting the warmth soak into him, before taking his traditional spot in the far corner.  (Gwen despised the seat because she didn’t like the way the jets struck her back.  Arthur had initially taken the spot so that Gwen would stop complaining, but he thought the jet placement was absolutely perfect and now he never sat anywhere else.) 

His eyes slid closed as he tipped his head back to rest on the edge of the tub, groaning at the sensation of jets of water pulsing against his back and neck.  He had no idea how long he sat there, just focusing on the physical pleasure, before he heard laughter behind him. 

“Wow, Arthur.  You couldn’t even wait for us?”

Arthur had turned off the patio lights, so it was only the moonlight that allowed him to see Gwen and Merlin standing next to the hot tub, each holding a towel.  Gwen was wearing the one-piece bathing suit that she had bought for their beach vacation with Uther last year, and Merlin was wearing Arthur’s baggy blue and white swim trunks. 

_Holy fuck._

It was evident that Arthur’s shorts were far too big for Merlin.  He had tied the drawstring as tight as he possibly could, but the fabric seemed in danger of simply slipping down over his slim hips.  The waistband lay _inches_ below Merlin’s navel, and a trail of fine, dark hair drew Arthur’s eyes down…down…

Shaking his head to clear it, and glad that it was dark enough that his blush would go unnoticed, he said, “Sorry.  Come on in – the water’s great!”  Gwen and Merlin quickly climbed into the tub and found comfortable seats. 

Oh, god, the hot tub was the worst idea ever.  Yes, it was relaxing, and yes, it was helping loosen his almost permanently-knotted shoulders, but he had never considered what torture it would be to have Merlin relaxed, flushed, and half-naked, sitting near him. 

His brain was screaming at him: _Way to go, Arthur!  Get almost naked with the boy you’re having completely inappropriate thoughts about!  And invite your wife!  This won’t be awkward at all!_

When he finally calmed himself enough to pay attention to his surroundings, he realized that Gwen had engaged Merlin in a conversation about his life in Austria.  She was asking him about his parents, his house, his friends, and his school.  Arthur was content to just sit and listen to Merlin’s gently lilting accent as he spoke animatedly about the life waiting for him back home. 

Arthur draped his arms along the tub’s edge and immediately froze, realizing it had been a terrible idea.  His hand landed directly behind Merlin’s head, and the temptation to run fingers through that dark hair, to caress the smooth skin of his neck…it was so strong that he had to ball his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out and touching.  It would look suspicious to take back his arm so quickly, so he kept it there, agonizingly aware of each inch that separated Merlin’s skin from his.

It was a relief to discover that Gwen and Merlin didn’t seem to be concerned that Arthur wasn’t talking.  It was so much easier to remain in control when he didn’t have to worry about following their conversation.  He concentrated on taking deep, even breaths and gradually relaxing every part of his body. 

It worked.  Arthur steadily regained his composure to the point that he could focus on the words coming from his wife and student (now _former_ student, he reminded himself bitterly).  Merlin was asking questions about Uther and Morgana, and Gwen was working in embarrassing stories about Arthur whenever possible. 

When they finally came to a lull in conversation, Gwen leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek. 

“I’m going to get ready for bed.  It’s been a long day.  You two stay out here, though.  Relax.”

Without waiting for Arthur to say anything, she climbed out of the tub and padded across the patio and into the house.

And just like that, he was alone with Merlin. 

And, oh, he had been thinking about a moment like this for so long.  He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Merlin, to slide his hands down the smooth planes of Merlin’s body, to feel his muscles flex under the gentle pressure of Arthur’s lips. 

The moonlight, which had been obscured by clouds for a few minutes, suddenly shone brightly on them. 

“Oh, wow,” Merlin breathed.  “You have a tattoo.”

“Yeah, I do,” Arthur whispered, too transfixed by the sight of Merlin reaching out a hand toward the heart tattooed on his chest to speak loudly. 

Halfway there, though, Merlin suddenly shook his head and pulled his arm back quickly.  He seemed…was he embarrassed?  Holy shit, was Merlin _interested_ in him? 

The idea that Merlin might want to touch him sent a wave of heat crashing through his body.  Arthur couldn’t help but think that Merlin was no longer his student and that there was technically nothing standing between the two of them.  He wouldn’t be abusing his power or Merlin’s trust – not if Merlin wanted it, too.

The temptation to leap out and pin that lithe body to the edge of the hot tub and kiss him until they were both breathless was so strong that there was nothing that could have stopped him.  He spread his legs under the water, just barely nudging Merlin’s knee with his own.  Arthur watched him carefully, gauging his response.  Merlin’s whole body froze at the initial contact, and he turned his head oh so slowly to glance up at Arthur, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyelashes fluttering so prettily –

“Hey, I just realized that I never got a picture of the two of you!”

Gwen’s words were as effective as a bucket of cold water in cooling down his rising lust. 

“You’re right,” he managed to choke out.  “Merlin?”

Merlin slid next to him as Gwen fiddled with her camera’s settings. 

“Sorry!  I’m trying to find that nighttime one.  Just give me a second.”

Acutely aware of every bit of skin that was in contact with Merlin’s, Arthur was ready to run screaming from the hot tub.  Finally, Gwen had her camera settings sorted and was ready for the shot. 

“Arthur, put your arm around him.  Act like you like each other!”

It was a family joke – “Act like you like each other!” – that Uther had started when Arthur and Morgana were children.  They hated being photographed, and they despised being placed into cute brother and sister poses.  Uther had said that every time, and somehow, it stuck.  Right now, though, it was the epitome of ridiculousness.  Gwen would be shocked if she found out just how much Arthur liked Merlin.

He did as Gwen commanded, and slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulder as they both smiled at the camera. 

“Hang on, just a couple more.  I want to try all of these settings.”

Arthur was both praising and cursing that damn camera.  Sure, Gwen’s obsessive need to figure out everything it could do was giving him the opportunity to touch Merlin, but he was also being forced to touch Merlin in front of Gwen. 

As they waited for her to thumb through the various settings, Merlin’s arm slid tentatively around Arthur’s back.  Arthur jumped when Merlin’s hand settled just above his hip, thankful that the bubbles concealed that hand from Gwen’s view. 

He was going crazy.  He was being tortured.  They were the only options.  For him to have everything that he had been dreaming of, but being forced to touch Merlin in front of Gwen and then say goodbye to him the next morning – this had to be one of the circles of hell. 

“Okay, all done,” Gwen said brightly, just as Merlin’s fingers brushed along the waistband of Arthur’s shorts. 

“Merlin, it’s getting late.  You probably still have to pack, right?”

He nodded.  “Yes.  I always wait until the last minute to pack.  It’s a very bad habit.”

Gwen leaned in and ruffled Merlin’s hair.  “Just like Arthur,” she said.  “He never wants to pack anything even a minute before he absolutely has to.  Do you have to leave early?”

He nodded, pulling a face like a typical teenager at the thought of getting up early. 

“I hope you have a safe trip.  It was so nice to meet you, Merlin.”

There was that smile that he loved: teeth flashing white in the darkness as his lips stretched into a huge grin.  “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Pendragon.”

“You’re very welcome.  Goodnight, boys.”

He was fairly sure that Merlin would be receptive to any advance he would make, but at Gwen’s use of “boys,” he realized something important.  Merlin was still so young; he had admitted to Arthur that he wasn’t sure whether he liked men or women.  He had so much growing to do, more emotionally than physically, that it would be unfair for Arthur to expect anything from him. 

Tonight had been all about showing Merlin how loved he was and how much he would be missed, and Arthur didn’t want to ruin any of those memories with a clumsy attempt at seduction while his wife slept just a few steps away.  Now was not the time to push Merlin into something he might not be ready for.  Arthur needed to show Merlin that he supported all of his decisions and let him know that he would always be his friend. 

That didn’t mean that it wasn’t almost painful to pull away from him, though.

“Okay, let’s find a towel and get you home.”

“All right.”  Merlin made no move to get up; instead, he just sat with his head dropped onto his chest.

Arthur couldn’t stand to see him look this defeated.  He needed to make things right.     

“Merlin, would you like me to take you to the airport tomorrow?”

Merlin didn’t even have to think about it.  “I would like that very much.  Thank you.”

 

**Chapter Nine**

_Amélie lied to me_  
 _This was supposed to be easy_  
 _I found the one damn person_  
 _To help me fall asleep in the night_

When Arthur arrived at Merlin’s house the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to see Merlin’s three suitcases stacked neatly next to the door.  He was surprised, however, at what he didn’t see: Merlin’s host parents.

Merlin must have seen something to that effect on Arthur’s face, because the first thing he said was, “They aren’t here.  I sent them a text message to tell them that you would take me to the airport.  They did not come back here last night.”

God, just when he thought there was nothing that these people could do to anger him any further, they did something like this. 

“Merlin, did they even say goodbye to you?”

Merlin handed his phone to Arthur, shrugging.  “In a way, I suppose.”

_Mr Pendragon offered to take me to the airport in the morning_

_Ok c-ya around!_

Arthur’s fingers flexed around the phone, twitching with the need to smash it, to break something, to _force_ these people to care for Merlin as much as he did.

“Don’t worry about it.  I am not sad to leave them.”

_Leave_.  Merlin was leaving.  Arthur’s rage disappeared and was just as quickly replaced with that familiar sense of despair that had plagued him for the last three days.

“I’m ready.  Will you please help me carry the suitcases?”

He wanted to say no, to tell Merlin that he couldn’t go, to promise that he would do anything if Merlin would only stay – but he knew that Merlin was making the right decision.  And Merlin’s happiness was more important than his own.

Between the two of them, it only took one trip to carry Merlin’s belongings to Arthur’s vehicle. 

“Oh,” Merlin exclaimed, “I have never seen you drive this before!  It’s beautiful!”

Arthur’s dark red Jeep Wrangler was his most prized possession.  He had saved every bit of money he earned from his paper route and his Christmas and birthday gifts, ending up with enough money to purchase his Jeep the very same day that he passed his driver’s exam. 

It wasn’t a vehicle for everyday use, so it made sense that Merlin hadn’t seen it before.  He didn’t drive it to work or while running errands; instead, he saved it for messier pursuits such as camping trips with Uther, hauling yard supplies, off-roading, and transporting his filthy dog home from his many romps in the creek behind Morgana’s house.

He couldn’t explain why he chose to drive it today.  The Jeep didn’t get good gas mileage, it was a much noisier ride than his car, and it hadn’t been washed in weeks.  But when he had walked into the garage that morning, it seemed like the right choice. 

Maybe it was because he felt so comfortable in his Jeep.  It was possible that he subconsciously chose it because he had so many positive memories of trips in it – he was certainly going to need some positivity today.  

“Thanks,” he told Merlin as they loaded the suitcases into the vehicle.  “I’ve had it for more than ten years.”

“Can I drive?”

Arthur was conflicted.  Yes, he trusted Merlin, but Arthur and Uther were the only two people who had ever driven his baby.  He had no idea what kind of a driver Merlin was, and he didn’t even –

“Hang on – you don’t even have a driver’s license!”

Merlin just laughed and jumped up onto the passenger seat.

Arthur couldn’t hold back a smile at seeing Merlin in such a good mood.  But he sobered quickly as he made his way around the back of the vehicle to the driver’s side door, realizing that Merlin was happy _because he was leaving_. 

Conversation was slow to start, with Arthur thinking about saying goodbye and Merlin obviously too excited to be going home to think about anything else. 

Eventually, though, Merlin asked about Arthur’s Jeep, which led to stories about Uther and Morgana, and somehow that led to Arthur openly bashing many of the teachers and students at Avalon. 

The hour-long drive seemed to be over in just minutes; before he knew it, Arthur was approaching the terminal.  He had told Gwen he was just dropping Merlin off at the terminal, only staying long enough to ensure that he made it safely into the airport with all of his baggage.  Now, however, faced with the looming threat of goodbye, he couldn’t stand the idea and instead made the turn for the short-term parking lot. 

“Mr. Pendragon, you can just let me out at the doors,” Merlin objected.  “You don’t have to come in with me.”

Arthur was so exhausted, both physically and emotionally, that he didn’t stop to censor his response.  “I know.  But I want to.”

Merlin’s smile – god, Arthur would give anything to see more of that smile – was beautiful.  It punched the air right out of Arthur’s lungs.

He reached over and squeezed Merlin’s leg, right above his knee. 

“I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”   

And if he let his hand linger a little longer than was proper, Merlin didn’t complain. 

 

* * *

 

Neither of them spoke as they rode the tram from the short-term parking lot to the terminal.  Nor did they have anything to say as they navigated the crowded lines to check Merlin’s suitcases. 

It wasn’t until they reached the security lines that Arthur broke the silence.  He knew that as soon as Merlin got in that line, he was going to lose him. 

“The security lines are pretty short, and you still have a little more than an hour until your flight boards.  Do you want to get a coffee or something?”

At Merlin’s nod, Arthur steered Merlin through the crowd toward the airport’s tiny coffee shop, his hand at the small of Merlin’s back.  When their progress was stopped short by a family with two tiny children and two enormous strollers, Merlin ended up with his back pressed to Arthur’s chest, so close that it took all of Arthur’s willpower to resist the urge to touch him everywhere. 

And Merlin – oh, god – Merlin tilted his face up toward Arthur and smiled.  It wasn’t that blinding, breathtaking smile Arthur was used to seeing; instead it was a smaller, quieter curl of the lips.  It was a little bit shy and a little bit of something Arthur couldn’t identify.  Secretive, maybe?  Whatever it was, it was a smile he had never seen in the months he had known Merlin.

And at that realization, anger swelled again in him.  There was so much he would never get to find out about Merlin, so much that he was going to miss seeing as Merlin grew older, as he became the amazing man that Arthur knew he would be. 

His anger must have shown in his face, because Merlin’s smile fell, and he quickly turned around to work his way through the crowd of people, jerking his body away from Arthur’s.  Being smaller than Arthur, he found it easier to slip between people and had soon separated the two of them to the point that all Arthur could see of Merlin was the top of his head. 

He finally caught up to Merlin at a tiny table tucked into a dark corner of the coffee shop.  Uncaring how it looked to the shop’s other patrons, Arthur sank to his knees next to him, grabbing Merlin’s hands and squeezing them.

“Merlin, I’m not angry with you.  I promise.”

Merlin didn’t say anything; he didn’t even look at Arthur. 

Arthur squeezed harder.

“Merlin, please.  I swear to you, you didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m not angry.”

He was silent for so long that Arthur feared this was how his time with Merlin would end, that Merlin would leave thinking that Arthur was upset. 

He couldn’t let that happen.  

Even though his knees were complaining, he stayed crouched at Merlin’s side, rubbing circles into Merlin’s palms with his thumbs. 

“Merlin.”  He said it as softly as he could, hoping that Merlin would recognize the complete lack of anger in his tone. 

Seeing Merlin’s blue eyes flicker to his face felt like a precious gift. 

“Then what is wrong?” Merlin whispered.

“It’s nothing, Merlin,” he answered honestly.  “I’m just so _frustrated_ at the situation.  I’m angry at the school, at the students, at the exchange company, at your host parents – there are so many people that I want to hurt for making you unhappy. 

Determining that Merlin wasn’t going anywhere and that it was safe to release his hands, Arthur slid into the booth next to him.  Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

Arthur probably wouldn’t have noticed Merlin speaking over the noise of the café had he not been focusing so intently on him. 

His reply was not much more than a whisper.  “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

This was exactly what Arthur had hoped to avoid.  This goodbye shouldn’t be about him; it should be a show of support for Merlin.  Merlin was the important person in the equation.  Arthur’s feelings were of no importance.      

He cautiously wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulder.

“I’m always going to worry about you because I care about you.  I only want you to be happy, and it’s always going to upset me if you aren’t.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said, still whispering. 

They sat together as they waited for the last possible minute for Merlin to pass through security, each growing more anxious until Merlin could wait no longer. 

“Ready?” Arthur asked, though he was anything but ready for this farewell. 

Merlin nodded, stood, and grabbed his bag.  The crowd had thinned, and the two of them were able to make the short trip to the security area in less than a minute. 

This was it.  They had finally reached the point from which Merlin had to go on alone. 

For the first time in the months they had known each other, Merlin seemed awkward, unsure what to do with his long limbs.  He crossed and quickly uncrossed his arms across his chest, shuffled his feet, and finally reached out as if to shake Arthur’s hand. 

There was no way he could ever be satisfied with a handshake.  Ignoring Merlin’s outstretched hand, he grabbed Merlin in a crushing hug.  For a moment, Merlin was still.  He seemed almost reluctant at first, but finally dropped his bag and brought both arms up to wrap around Arthur’s back. 

It was the single most excruciating moment of his life.  Arthur finally had what he wanted: to be wrapped up in Merlin.  Yes, they had hugged before, but it was less of a hug and more of an attempt to stop Merlin from sobbing. 

This, though, _this_ was a real hug.  It was for both of them.  Merlin’s soft hair against his cheek, the warmth of his chest, the squeeze of his arms – it was everything he had been yearning for, and the reality of it was even better than anything Arthur had ever imagined.  At the same time, the reason for the embrace hit him like a blow to the chest.  He finally had exactly what he wanted, but only because Merlin was leaving him. 

He had no idea how long they stood there, simply holding each other and wrestling with their own thoughts, until Merlin finally spoke. 

“ _Je vous manquerai?_ ”1

Arthur could feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes.  His voice was certainly not steady when he answered. 

“ _Bien sur.  Chaque jour, vous me manquerez._ ”2

Arthur was the one to break the embrace, realizing that though he could hold Merlin forever, it was time for him to leave.  He picked up Merlin’s bag and handed it to him, almost unable to meet Merlin’s eyes.  This was it.  The end.  He had no idea what to say, so he said the only thing that came to mind.     

_“Au revoir, mon ami.”_ 3

This time, Merlin’s smile was definitely sad as he responded. 

_“Au revoir.”_ 4

He wanted to leave.  He wanted to get back to his car, to get home, to find something to drink – to do anything but stand here and watch this beautiful boy walk out of his life, but it was like he was frozen in place.  He watched Merlin remove his shoes and belt, walk through the metal detector and security scanners, pick up his bag again, and slip his shoes and belt back on.  Almost as though Merlin could sense his presence, he turned around, his gaze landing directly on Arthur.  He raised his hand to wave, and then he was gone.    

Arthur wasn’t really sure how he made it back to the parking lot, but he soon found himself again in his Jeep, breathing hard.  Though he expected to, he did not cry.  He was so emotionally wrecked that he had finally reached a state of near-numbness.

He checked his phone, noting the takeoff time scheduled for Merlin’s flight.  Even though it was much too cold for it, he pulled down the Jeep’s canvas roof and reclined in his seat, huddling under the sleeping bag that he had left in the backseat from the last camping trip.  He lay back, watching both his watch and the sky, until he saw Merlin’s plane take off, heading across the Atlantic Ocean and taking Arthur’s heart with it.

Notes:

1\. Will you miss me?

2\. Of course. I will miss you every day.

3\. Goodbye, my friend.

4\. Goodbye.   

**Chapter Ten**  

_And maybe you'd relent and return my hope for our forever_  
 _Lift up your precious hands, and then bring yours and mine together_  
 _So just give me one fine day of plain sailing weather_

_Mr. Pendragon,_  
 _My flight just arrived in Vienna and I will be at my house again in less than an hour._  
 _Thank you for everything.  I will never forget what you did for me.  
_ _-Merlin_

_Merlin,_  
 _I wish I could have done more to help you._  
 _Good luck at school, and please keep in touch.  
_ _-Mr. P_

  

* * *

 

A week later, he received a package with an Austrian postmark.  In it were two greeting cards, a few small wrapped boxes, and a large gift bag. 

One of the cards was addressed to him in Merlin’s distinctive handwriting, so that was the one he chose to open first. 

_I’ve started school again, and I am only a little behind my classmates.  My parents are happy to have me here, and I am happy to be home.  It’s nice to be with people who understand me and it’s nice to sleep in my own bed again.  I hope you and your wife have a very good Christmas._

Oh, just seeing that handwriting again had him a little choked up.  He ran his thumb over the text, wishing for the thousandth time that he could just see Merlin again, even for one minute. 

The second envelope, nothing written on the outside, contained a note from Merlin’s mother. 

_Mr. Pendragon,_  
 _My husband and I cannot thank you enough for taking care of our son when we were not able.  We will never forget what you did for our family._ _Gifts are not able to express how much we appreciate what you did for us, but we hope that you enjoy them._  
 _Merry Christmas to you and your family,  
_ _Hunith Emrys_

Arthur thought, not for the first time, that Merlin’s parents must be pretty special to have raised a son like him.

He unwrapped all of the small packages, discovering two boxes of Austrian chocolates, two bottles of apricot schnapps, and a beautiful, carefully packaged Riedel wine decanter. 

The handles of the gift bag were tied together so tightly that he had to find scissors just to separate them.  When he finally managed to open it, he pulled aside layers of tissue paper to find a small plush toy bird and another card, from Merlin’s mother again, he noted as he started to read. 

_We bought this for Merlin when he left for the United States.  It was a joke because in English, this type of bird is called a merlin.  He put it aside when he returned home, I think because he does not much like to remember his time away.  But I did hear him tell his friend that he should have left it with you as something to remember him.  Merlin does not know that I have sent you this, but he was right – you should have something to remember him._

The small stuffed bird had a grey and white speckled chest and a long, black and white striped tail.  It looked almost like a tiny, fierce owl. 

It wasn’t until he sneezed that he realized he had been pressing the stuffed animal to his nose, trying desperately to breathe in some of Merlin’s scent.   

 

* * *

 

Thirty was definitely too old to be sleeping with stuffed animals.  But it was the perfect size to fit under his arm, tucked against his chest.  He felt connected to Merlin in a way he hadn’t before, and that was worth enduring all of Gwen’s taunts. 

He couldn’t tell Gwen where it had come from; instead, he told her that Uther had found it in Arthur’s old bedroom.  She didn’t pay much attention to it, except to insist that Arthur give it a name.  He refused.

It already had a name.  But it wasn’t one that he wanted to tell her.

 

* * *

 

The spring was disastrous as he learned more and more about the things that Merlin hadn’t told him.  Leon and Percy were proving to be veritable founts of information.  They came to all of their conversation hours together, and attempted to explain, all the while struggling with French vocabulary and syntax, exactly what Merlin had told them. 

One of their teachers, upon learning exactly why Merlin had left, proceeded to engage her class in a discussion about how prevalent bullying was at Avalon.  Arthur was pleased to hear this, but there was more to the story than that.  She asked her students to do some math.  Hypothetically, she said, if only ten students at Avalon are bullies, what percentage of the student body is that?  And should that be enough to make a student leave a school.  According to her, definitely not.  Merlin must have been too weak, too soft to handle a little good-natured teasing.

Arthur actually left Leon and Percy open-mouthed in surprise in his room as he sprinted to this woman’s classroom.  She confirmed the boys’ story, adding that she felt she had taught them all an important life lesson about perseverance.  It was the closest Arthur had ever come in his life to hitting a woman.

He reported the incident to their principal, but nothing was done. 

The physical education teacher had questioned Merlin’s need to take his class, informing him that it was a class for “real men, not little girls.”  Arthur did end up confronting him in the parking lot.  The man was unapologetic, and Arthur deeply regretted the fact that he only got one punch in before the school’s security officer arrived.  As it was, it pleased Arthur to hear the students speculating about what their gym teacher had done to earn that black eye. 

Worst of all, Arthur discovered that the guidance counselor (not Elena, but the one to whom Merlin had been assigned) did absolutely nothing with the reports of bullying that were passed on to her by both Arthur and the principal.  She had called Merlin into her office once and asked him if there was anything he needed help with.  When he said no, she had dismissed him and didn’t make another attempt to speak with him for the rest of his time at Avalon. 

Students later reported that they could hear Arthur yelling from two floors above her office, though they couldn’t make out enough words to determine what the fight was about.  That was good, because Arthur was sure that the school would have received dozens of complaints about his language.  From what he could remember, he said something like, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Why couldn’t you do your goddamn job?  Why did he have to come to _me_ for help when it’s what you’re trained to do?  How the fuck can you call yourself a guidance counselor and not offer these kids, oh, I don’t know – _some motherfucking guidance_?”

That marked the second official discipline referral added to Arthur’s personnel file. 

  

* * *

 

The fast-approaching end of the school year meant that it was time for one of Arthur’s least favorite events: the prom.  And the hatred that he had developed this year for most of the staff and students made him wish more than anything that he didn’t have to participate. 

Chaperoning the prom wasn’t a completely horrible job, though.  Teachers got a free meal and some free cocktails (after the students left, of course).  One year, Gwen had gone with him and they had been able to take advantage of their ballroom dancing lessons to show the students how it was done. 

But most years, his evening was spent ensuring that no alcohol came anywhere near the fountain of punch, preventing students from sneaking out to smoke, stopping couples from dry-humping on the dance floor, and watching in horror as well-endowed girls threatened to break free from their strapless dresses. 

Tonight was no exception.  He stood alone in the back of the banquet hall, scanning the crowd, his head throbbing in time with the bass.  They had certainly picked a loud DJ this year.

The students cheered their newly-crowned king and queen, and the evening was finally winding down when Leon appeared, grabbing Arthur’s forearm and pulling him over to a group of students.  It took a moment to process the girls’ identities through their thick makeup and elaborate hairstyles, but he finally realized that he was looking at all of the students from his advanced class. 

“We’re taking a class picture, so you have to be in it!”

“No, that’s okay,” he responded, eager to avoid the whole picture-taking ordeal.  “How about if I just take the picture for you?”

His suggestion was met with a chorus of groans, begging, and a few French curse words that he had _definitely_ not taught them. 

“C’mon, Mr. P., it’s probably the last time we’ll all be together.  Please?”

Leon was a hard man to say no to.  That puppy dog expression was going to serve him well in life. 

Resigning himself to his fate, Arthur joined the group and patiently grinned though several rounds of “wait, how does this camera work again,” “hang on, the flash didn’t go off,” and “just one more!” 

Flashbulbs still dancing in his vision, Arthur made one more trip to the dance floor to make sure that none of his students were doing anything that was more appropriate in a strip club than a high school dance. 

The students had, so far, been on their best behavior.  The evening’s only excitement had been a quick screaming match in the corridor leading to the bathroom, and it ended before any teachers could even get there, both girls realizing simultaneously that a boy who cheats was not worth fighting over. 

As the inevitable cheesiness of the prom’s last two slow songs blared from the speakers, he watched the students pair off to wrap their arms awkwardly around each other and sway from side to side for the length of the song, turning slowly in a small circle.

This time it was not Leon who approached him, but Lance. 

“What’s up, Lance?  Shouldn’t you be dancing?”

“Can I ask for a favor?”

“Well, you can _ask_.”

_Never promise them anything_ was one of those unspoken rules of teaching.  Not until you knew what they were asking for, anyway. 

“Well, um…you know Isolde’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Lance,” he chuckled, “everybody knows him.” 

Tristan had been one of those students that every teacher loved to have in class.  He was polite, hard-working, helpful, and never had an unkind word to say about anyone.  He was a natural-born leader, captaining both the tennis and debate teams.  

And now he was in Afghanistan, serving as a specialist in the U.S. Army.  He tried to speak to Isolde, his girlfriend of three years, as much as he could, but Arthur saw every single day just how scared she was that she was going to lose him. 

“We were wondering,” Lance continued, “if you’d dance with Isolde.  She’s really sad.” 

In his eight years at Avalon, Arthur had never once danced with a student at the prom.  There was no rule against it; it was just one of those things that simply wasn’t done.  But he’d been given an opportunity to make one of the sweetest girls he had ever met smile, so screw anybody who had a problem with it.

“Absolutely.”

Lance’s smile lit up his whole face as he, like Leon had only minutes earlier, dragged Arthur across the room. 

Isolde, despite her years as the star of Avalon’s theater department, was shy.  She only nodded when Arthur asked, “May I have this dance?”   She seemed too nervous to take Arthur’s outstretched hand, so he took it upon himself to grab her and twirl, gently forcing her to hold on. 

It was a lot of fun, he decided, to make someone else happy.  And Isolde clearly was, judging by her brilliant smile and small bursts of laughter as Arthur moved her around the floor in a kind of modified waltz.  Other students, and even some faculty members, applauded and whistled for them as the song came to an end.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Pendragon.  Tristan is never going to believe me when I tell him about this.” 

“You’re very welcome,” he said, gently separating their hands and taking a step back.  “You tell that man of yours that he owes me a beer when he gets home.” 

And, oh – maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned Tristan coming home, because he could see that fear flash in Isolde’s eyes again.  He wracked his brain for something comforting to say, something to diffuse the suddenly tense situation, but, luckily, was saved by Percival’s sudden interruption. 

“Mr. P!” Percy shouted, throwing a heavy arm around Arthur’s shoulders.  “If Isolde gets a dance, we should all get a dance!  No playing favorites!” 

And that’s how Arthur found himself doing the traditional shuffle back and forth high school dance with an eighteen-year-old giant as Celine Dion warbled about her heart going on and on.  Percy then passed him off to Lance, who in turn passed him to the rest of the group as he got a chance to dance with each of his students.  It was, surprisingly, the most fun he had had in a long time.  He actually wanted the evening to last longer so that he would have more time to spend with these kids.  These good kids.

The last student to take his turn was Leon, who performed an exaggerated curtsy before slinging his arms around Arthur’s neck.  They only had half a minute to dance together before the song ended and the lights came up, but Leon kept his hands locked together behind Arthur’s neck and just stared at him for a little longer than was comfortable.  It looked as though Leon had something important to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. 

Arthur gave him another few seconds, but when Leon didn’t open his mouth, Arthur reached up to slide Leon’s hands from his shoulders.  But before Arthur had even touched him, Leon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Oh, fuck it,” and lowered his arms to grab Arthur in a bone-crushing hug.

Arthur went completely still, feeling totally confused.  He was not one of those teachers who welcomed hugs from their students – many girls had been disappointed on graduation night to receive just a handshake.  And Leon knew that.  So why was he suddenly all over him? 

“Uh, Leon?  I’ll forget that you just said “fuck” in front of a teacher if you tell me what’s going on.”

Leon laughed and released him.  “I just wanted to thank you.  You know, this is our last night to all be together, and you helped make it so much fun.”

“I was glad to.  But just a heads up – next time, you can thank me with a handshake.”

Isolde was suddenly at Leon’s side, hissing, “Mr. P doesn’t like to be hugged!  What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s okay,” Arthur reassured her, “He’s just happy.”

Suddenly, Percy was there, throwing one arm around Leon and the other around Arthur.  He leaned in toward Leon and said, “Well, did you ask him yet?”

With a small shake of the head, Leon told him, “Not yet.  You do it.”

“So, Mr. P,”  Percy said, dropping his already deep voice to an impossibly deep level.  “What would you say to joining nine of Avalon’s finest for some donuts and coffee?”

Of course, they would go out for donuts after the prom.  He smiled at the thought of the girls squeezing their huge dresses into the tiny booths and the boys smearing powdered sugar all over their rented tuxedo jackets.  It was close to midnight, so they would probably be the only customers in the shop, laughing and shouting and bouncing around as their post-prom excitement was increased by massive amounts of sugar. 

He had never gone out with his students before; in fact, he had never even been tempted to accept any of the many invitations he received to graduation parties or post-game pizza celebrations.  But tonight, he was tempted.  It would be so much _fun_ to sit and talk with these kids, to let their youthful exuberance and excitement about the future wash over him and allow him to, just for a little while, forget that he had any reason to be unhappy.   

At that point, they had all started begging.

“Mr. P, you have to come with us!”

“Yeah, come on!  It’ll be so much fun!”

“I’ll buy you a donut!”

What was keeping him from saying yes?  It’s not like he was in any hurry to get home.  And laughing with these kids who he genuinely liked sounded a lot better than watching stupid YouTube videos until he fell asleep on the couch. 

“Okay.  I’m in.”

The girls squealed loud enough for the other faculty members to start rushing towards them, sure that something terrible was going on.  Arthur waved them off.

“All right, people.  Let’s get out of here before you get interrogated by my colleagues.”

 

* * *

 

His guess had been correct – they were the only customers in the tiny, delicious-smelling donut shop.  On top of that, they looked ridiculously out of place.  After about two hours (bless whoever had come up with the genius idea to have a 24-hour donut shop in their town), all of the girls had pulled the bobby pins from their hair and shook out their curls, and all of the boys had ditched their bowties, jackets, and dress shirts.  For anyone walking by, the sight of girls with messy hair in poofy dresses sitting next to boys in tuxedo pants and t-shirts must have been a little surreal. 

They talked about their plans for the summer and the next few years.  They reminisced about their four years of French.  They slapped and tickled and poked each other, laughed until they were nearly sick, and gorged themselves on donuts and coffee.  Arthur, however, just sat there, absorbing the goodwill like he was basking in sunlight. 

Somehow, the girls talked the boys into a game of Truth or Dare.  The dares were all fairly tame, like eating a packet of sugar or adding salt and pepper to a cup of coffee.  Arthur’s dare was to fashion a mustache of wet napkins and wear it for fifteen minutes.  The questions, though – they were much more interesting. 

In the course of an hour, he learned that Tristan had refused to kiss Isolde until she turned sixteen, that Percy was terrified of horses, and that Leon had convinced himself that he was in love with half of Avalon’s female teachers during his four years of high school. 

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this much.  He was so giddy that it felt a little like being drunk.  He would have been content to sit there until sunrise, but he was adult enough to realize that they had been sitting there, not really buying anything, for nearly four hours.  It was probably time to get going.

“Ooh!  We should call Merlin!”

Leon’s suggestion was met with several cheers from the rest of the students, which led him to a search through the pile of tuxedo jackets on the neighboring table for his phone, complaining good-naturedly each time the jacket pocket he reached into wasn’t his own.  He finally managed to dig out the well-hidden device and place the call, pressing the speakerphone button and laying it on the center of the table as they all crowded around. 

“Leon, it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.  I was sleeping.  What do you want?”

_Merlin._

Oh, it was so good to hear Merlin’s voice.  Arthur felt like something that had been missing inside him finally clicked into place.  If he closed his eyes, it felt like Merlin was right there with them.  He listened, not paying attention to the words themselves, but instead allowing the sound of Merlin’s voice to fill his gut with a slow burn of contentment. 

“…and Mr. Pendragon is here, too!  He even played Truth or Dare with us!  I totally have to send you the picture of him and his stupid mustache.” 

“It sounds like a lot of fun.  I wish I was there with all of you.”

“So do we,” bellowed Percy.

“Is that Percy?  Hey, can I talk to everybody?”

They ended up passing the phone from student to student, each one spending a few minutes telling Merlin about the night, the dresses, the tuxes, the flowers, and all of the other exciting things that happened at prom.  Arthur listened as Isolde talked about Arthur asking her to dance, and as Percy told him about how each of them got a chance to dance with Mr. P.

Arthur was just sitting there staring at the tabletop, wishing that they hadn’t switched off the speakerphone so that he could hear Merlin again, when the phone was shoved into his hand.  He stared at it for a moment, not sure if it was all real, if he was really going to get to talk to Merlin again.  As he looked up, he noticed that all of the students had mysteriously disappeared; the girls to the bathroom and the boys back in line to buy more coffee.  Arthur was alone in the quiet, dimly-lit corner of the shop.

“Merlin?”

He heard himself say Merlin’s name like it was a lifeline, like it was the only thing important in the world, like it was some precious thing that he had lost and finally found again. 

“Mr. Pendragon!  I am so happy to talk to you!”

“So am I.  How are you?  How’s school?”

He listened as Merlin told him about his upcoming exams and projects, his friend Will’s latest practical joke, and his plans to spend an upcoming weekend in Salzburg with his parents. 

“How are you?” he asked finally, directing the attention to Arthur.

What could he say?  The truthful answer was too depressing and creepy to share with his former student.  But a lie – Arthur just couldn’t lie to him.  Instead, he gave the most generic answer possible. 

“Tonight was a really great night.  And the school year is almost over, so things are pretty busy.”

Luckily, the return of the rest of his students ensured he didn’t have to elaborate. 

“Okay, Merlin, everybody’s back.  I’m going to put you on speakerphone again.”

Merlin’s voice was soft.  “It was so good to talk with you again.”

“You too, Merlin.”  There was nothing else Arthur could say.  Suddenly struck with an intense desire to be alone, he passed the phone back to Leon and walked away from their table. 

The cold water tap in the tiny bathroom provided water that was closer to lukewarm, but it still felt wonderful against the heated skin of his face.  He could see the flush spreading down his cheeks toward his neck as his body tried to process the adrenaline that had been flooding through him ever since Leon suggested making the call. 

Hearing Merlin’s voice had been a shock to his system.  That knot of unhappiness that seemed permanently lodged in Arthur’s chest had unclenched for just a little while.  Merlin was happy, and that’s what was really important tonight.  It didn’t matter that he wasn’t, as long as Merlin was.

He definitely had to leave before he was forced to talk to Merlin again.  With his luck, he would blurt out something that would horrify not just Merlin, but also the nine kids that he had really enjoyed spending the evening with.

As it turned out, he didn’t actually have to worry about the whole situation.  The call had ended, and everyone was trying to dig their various purses and jackets from the giant pile of belongings that covered a nearby table. 

“Thank you for coming, Mr. P!” bellowed Percy.

A general chorus of “Thank you!” and “We had such a good time!” rose in unison around him as they all gathered to leave.  Arthur just smiled in return, replying with a quick, “I had a lot of fun.  Thank _you_.”

In the confusion of misplaced car keys and deciding who was riding with whom, nobody noticed Leon hang back from the rest of the students.  As they left, he stuck out a hand and pulled Arthur into one of those awkward handshake/one-armed hugs that hip hop artists were so fond of.  There was no reason for him to be quiet, as they were the only patrons left in the shop, but he was practically whispering nonetheless. 

“Merlin misses you so much.  That’s why I’m glad you came, so that he could talk to all of us _and_ to you.   

Arthur surprised himself by dropping Leon’s hand and pulling him into a real hug.

“You’re such a good friend, Leon.  Thank you.”

 

 

**Chapter Eleven**

_I've been waking in the morning just like every other day_  
 _And just like every boring blues song I get swallowed by the pain_  
 _And so I fumble for your figure in the darkness just to make it go away_

Arthur usually loved hiking with his father.  They hiked all throughout the year, watching the seasons change and the forest grow around them. 

“What is wrong with you today?  You’re not even listening to me.”

Arthur had wanted to have this conversation so many times, but he had never known how to ask the questions that were tearing him apart.  He recognized that it was a sensitive topic; after all, it wasn’t as though Uther and Igraine had been able to spend a lifetime together.  But he had to ask.  He had no close friends who weren’t also Gwen’s friends, and he needed someone who was actually married, so Morgana was out.  His father was the only person he could talk to. 

So while stepping over a newly formed mud puddle, Arthur gathered up his courage and asked, “Dad, did you ever have doubts about your marriage?  I mean, were there ever times that you didn’t think it was going to work out?”

He had purposely waited until Uther was behind him to ask so that he wouldn’t have to look his father in the eye.  Uther was silent for so long that Arthur was sure that he wasn’t going to answer and was simply going to pretend Arthur hadn’t said anything.  But after letting out a small sigh, Uther began to speak.  Words poured from him as soon as he did.

“Marriage is work, son.  Nothing worth having in life is easy.  Your mother and I had our share of ups and downs, of course – everybody does.  But I always kept in mind those words that I spoke in front of the altar: I promised forever.  I swore before God and those witnesses that I would be with her until the end of our lives.  And even though we didn’t have as long as we thought we would, I wouldn’t have changed anything.”

He paused for a second, the slight tremor in his voice the only sign that they were dealing with such an emotionally charged subject.

“Was your mother perfect?  Am I?  No.  But any time we fought, even if we screamed at each other, I would think back to why we got married in the first place.  Arthur, I loved your mother so much that I knew my life wouldn’t be complete without her in it.  Marriage isn’t something to enter into lightly.  It means forever, and I agreed to that when I said ‘I do.’”

It was the most personal thing Arthur had ever heard his father say, and it was exactly what he didn’t want to hear. 

Uther stopped Arthur with a hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you asking me this?  Are you and Gwen having problems?”

Telling Uther how he was feeling would be a huge risk.  Arthur was certainly not in the mood to be lectured like a misbehaving child, but he needed to get this out in the open, to share the great weight that had lodged and settled in his chest. 

He dropped his backpack and sat, settling in for a long conversation.

He didn’t even have a clue how to begin.

He didn’t want to talk about Merlin – that hurt was too fresh, too new.  He couldn’t talk to his father about his sexual problems with Gwen.  How could he possibly explain the problem?

“Yes.  We’re having a lot of problems.  We fight all the time, and sometimes…sometimes I think I don’t even know who she is anymore.  She’s not the same woman I married.”

“Well, yes,” Uther said gently, kneeling beside his son, “that may be true, but you are also not the same person she married.  People change.  We grow up.  But, Arthur – I can’t believe that Gwen could change so much that you feel you no longer know her.  She’s still the same girl you kissed for the first time at your senior prom.  Gwen is one of the kindest people I know, and I’m sorry, but I think you might be exaggerating here.”

“But I’m not!”

Sometimes he felt as though he would never stop feeling like a child around his father.  Arthur pulled his legs in and rested his chin on his knees, sure that he was going to start crying any second. 

“Maybe it doesn’t sound like much.  But it’s killing me, Dad.  I haven’t been happy for years now.  And every day feels like torture.”

Uther’s tone was gruff.  “It sounds to me like you’re quitting.  Giving up.  I thought you were a better person than that, Arthur.  Maybe I was wrong.”

And for the first time in Arthur’s life, Uther simply turned and walked away from him, leaving Arthur sitting alone and starting to cry. 

 

* * *

 

Two good things happened amidst all the stress of a miserable job and an unhappy marriage.  First, Arthur was accepted into a summer program for foreign language teachers at the Sorbonne.  Second, a week after Merlin found out that Arthur would be visiting Europe, Arthur received a letter from Merlin’s mother suggesting that he come stay with them before he traveled to Paris. 

 

 

**Chapter Twelve**

_I have yearned for you_  
 _In the airless hubs of international airports_  
 _I_ _n the hollow hell of many hundred hotels_  
 _In the solitary stillness of the early hours_  
 _And I still do_

It was much cheaper, Arthur had discovered, to book a flight with a layover in Milan instead of a direct flight to Vienna.  Unfortunately, that left him with four hours to kill in Italy and extended his total travel time to almost fifteen hours.  Bleary-eyed, he made his way to the closest kiosk for a bottle of water, a coffee, and the first Italian magazine he found.  (Arthur couldn’t read Italian well, but figured this was as good an opportunity as any to practice.)

As sitting down again was the last thing he wanted to do after a trans-Atlantic flight, he found an unoccupied corner in which he could drop his bag and finally _stretch_.  It seemed like the seats were even smaller than when he’d flown the previous summer, and his legs and back were complaining from the limited range of motion he’d had for the last nearly ten hours. 

Gwen had asked for a phone call with each stage of his trip so that she knew he had arrived safely.  After one last luxurious stretch of his arms over his head, he pulled out his phone. 

And didn’t feel like talking.  Would Gwen be angry if she got a text instead?  Well, even if she was, he was an entire continent away from her and wouldn’t have to hear about it.

_Made it to Milan. Flight to Vienna leaves in 3.5 hours._

Before sliding his phone back into his pocket, he quickly checked both his personal and professional email and found not only _Bon voyage!_ messages from his father and sister, but also information and directions for his first day at the Sorbonne. 

He still couldn’t get over it.  Arthur Pendragon taking a course at the Sorbonne!  It was a Francophile nerd’s dream come true.  And a chance to see Vienna!  And to see Merlin again after more than a year and a half!  The next fifteen days were going to be amazing. 

 

* * *

 

As soon as the pilot announced their arrival in Austria, Arthur whipped out his phone to text Gwen.

_Just landed in Vienna.  I really hate flying._

He knew it would take a few minutes for the passengers in front of him to make their way up the aisle and off of the plane, so he thumbed open his facebook app, remembering his promise to Morgana to constantly update her and the rest of the family on his trip’s progress.  _Finally made it to Vienna.  What a long trip - I’ve never been happier to get off an airplane.  Right now, I’m off to Merlin’s house for two days before I head to Paris.  I’ll try to keep everybody updated and post as many photos as I can._    His phone vibrated immediately after he hit the submit button on his status update.  Thinking it was probably Morgana liking or commenting already, he was surprised to see the little number one lit up on the messages icon.

It was from Merlin.  Arthur smiled as he opened the message, but was confused at what he saw.  It was a photograph that appeared to be from a birthday party.  Merlin sat in front of a cake, flanked by a man and woman who must have been his parents, based on the woman’s familiar shade of blue eyes and the man’s exceptionally dark hair.  Both parents appeared to be in their late forties or early fifties.  Everyone looked happy.  Nine words accompanied the picture:  _Mr. Pendragon, I’m really sorry. They will explain everything._

“Permesso.”

Arthur shook his head as if to clear it and allowed the elderly Italian woman who had been seated next to him to join the short line of passengers in the aisle.  What did Merlin’s message mean?He pocketed his phone, retrieved his backpack from the overhead compartment and headed toward the exit.   

The airport was probably exactly the same as any other he’d ever been in, but he couldn’t say for sure.  In fact, the walls could have all been painted lime green for all he saw.  He was concentrating solely on clearing customs and finding his one suitcase as quickly as possible, scanning the crowds the whole time for Merlin’s dark hair and beautiful smile. 

He was so focused on finding Merlin that the light tap on his back caused him to jump.

“Mr. Pendragon?” He turned to see the two people from the picture. “You look so like your picture!  Welcome to Vienna!  I am Hunith, and this is my husband, Balinor.” Arthur was sure that his wide eyes could have rivaled any cartoon character.  He was not prepared for Hunith’s English – it was flawless.  She pulled Arthur into a tight embrace.       “It is so good to meet you in person!”

Merlin’s mother beamed at him as Balinor extended his hand and stiffly said, “I am sorry.  I do not speak English well like my wife.” 

At this, Arthur finally regained his composure.  “No, please don’t worry about it.  You both speak English _very_ well,” he added as he and Merlin’s father shook hands, Arthur scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Merlin.    

Possibly seeing the confused expression on his face, Hunith told him, “Merlin is so sorry that he cannot be here, Mr. Pendragon.”

Arthur’s until that moment very real smile became forced.  “He can’t be here?” he echoed.

“I told him to contact you, but he was not sure if you would receive a message in time.  He has traveled to visit my sister in the county.  She is having a baby soon and he was helping her with some chores.  But he has missed the last train home, and now he will not be here until the morning.”

_Oh_.     

“Are you hungry, Mr. Pendragon?”

“Yes, I am.  And please, call me Arthur.”

 

* * *

 

Hunith and Balinor treated him to an excellent dinner at a small restaurant near their home.  Arthur was surprised to find that he and Merlin’s parents got along well even though they had nothing in common.  Well, nothing but Merlin.

Conversation centered around Arthur’s former student, and he was relieved to discover that Merlin had been telling him the truth – that Merlin still felt he had made the right decision in returning home when he did.  Arthur had worried that he regretted his choice, but both Balinor and Hunith assured him that Merlin was certain he’d done what was best for him. 

He told Merlin’s parents how much he and the other teachers had enjoyed having their son in class and how many of his students were still asking about how Merlin was doing.  Merlin’s parents beamed for most of the meal, thrilled to hear all about their wonderful son.

Balinor and Hunith were…well, they were one of the most _loving_ couples that Arthur had ever had the privilege of spending time with.  They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.  It wasn’t as if they were teenagers, though – instead, it was a brush of hands here, a touch to the shoulder there.  When Hunith made a joke, Balinor smiled at her and leaned over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.  The way she looked back at him was enough to make Arthur feel like crying. 

There it was again: that intimacy that he had been missing for so long.  He knew for certain that he hadn’t smiled at Gwen like that in years, and he couldn’t ever remember a time when Gwen had tapped her fingers against his wedding ring, giving him a smile so open and caring that it made his heart swell in contentment. 

He shook his head to clear it, turning his attention back to his dinner companions.  After three delicious dishes and a few glasses of the bistro’s excellent red wine, not to mention almost thirteen hours of flying, Arthur found himself struggling to keep his eyes open.  Balinor noticed and signaled for the check, then suggested that Hunith and Arthur head for the car. 

Arthur helped her slip into her light jacked and offered his arm. 

“Such a gentleman, Arthur,” she teased as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “I can see why Merlin likes you so much.”

 

* * *

 

The Emrys home was nothing like what Arthur had imagined.  He knew that Merlin lived in the suburbs of Vienna, but he was expecting something that looked a little more like Morgana’s townhouse than the quaint cottage that Balinor and Hunith owned.  Though he was too tired to pay much attention to the home’s interior, he knew that he could ask Merlin for a tour the next day. 

It was becoming difficult to put one foot in front of the other (his exhaustion was so great that he had actually fallen asleep on the short car ride from the restaurant to their home), and he was pathetically grateful when Hunith said, “Let me show you to the bedroom.”

It wasn’t until his knees hit the edge of a bed that he realized that Hunith hadn’t led him to a guest bedroom – there were too many posters on the walls, too many books on the desk, and too many articles of clothing stacked neatly on the dresser for it to be anything but an occupied bedroom. 

Too tired to form words, he was grateful that Hunith caught the question in his eyes.  “The futon in the guest room is not very comfortable, and since Merlin is not here, you can sleep in his bed.”

_Merlin’s bed.  Merlin’s bed.  Merlin’s bed._

His brain was short-circuiting, but he managed a stuttered, “Thank you,” as Hunith explained where to find the bathroom and how to work the window’s small air-conditioning unit before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind her. 

It became evident to him that there was no way he was going to be able to stay awake for more than a few minutes, so he flicked on the air-conditioner, stripped down to his boxer-briefs, and burrowed beneath the navy blue and red sheets on Merlin’s bed. 

His last thought before sleep claimed him was that it was completely pathetic for him, a thirty year-old man, to be burying his nose in the sheets of the bed of a seventeen-year-old boy, wishing desperately for that boy’s arms and legs tangled up in his.

 

* * *

 

Arthur woke happier than he had in ages.  He had slept the deep sleep of the truly jet-lagged and woken a little disoriented, but grinning nonetheless.  He was in Merlin’s house – in Merlin’s bed! – and Merlin was going to be there very soon.  

The smell of something baking (croissants, maybe?) made the morning perfect.  Vienna, Merlin’s bed, Merlin – what a fantastic day this was going to be. 

He spent a few minutes with his face pressed to the pillow, breathing in the clean smell of laundry detergent and the fresh, woodsy scent that was Merlin.  The realization that he didn’t want to see Merlin again smelling like a transatlantic flight was what finally made him drag himself out of bed and into Merlin’s bathroom.

While waiting for the shower’s water to heat up, he spent some time unabashedly peeking in the bathroom cabinets.  There was nothing but typical personal hygiene and bathroom cleaning products.  The shower was different, though.  The shelf of the small stall was lined with soap, shampoo, and – holy hell, was that lube?

He had brought his own bath products into the shower with him, but the lure of covering his body with the same products that touched Merlin’s skin proved too tempting.  What had started as a simple shower quickly turned into something more as he luxuriated in the smell of Merlin’s soap, imagining Merlin lathering his slim limbs every day in that same shower. 

The Merlin in his mind ran his soap-slick hands across his pecs, down over his stomach, and up and down each leg.  His long fingers rubbed the soap into the thin skin over his hipbones.  He tipped his head back into the shower’s spray, exposing that neck that Arthur had spent so much time agonizing over.  Soap and shampoo dripped down his body as he shut his eyes against the pounding water and stretched, releasing all the tension from his body.

Though Arthur hadn’t been able to see Merlin clearly that night in the hot tub, he pictured a light dusting of hair on Merlin’s chest and thicker hair on his legs.  The trail of hair that he _had_ seen leading down into Merlin’s borrowed swim trunks suggested a much darker, thicker crop of hair around the cock that Arthur had been imagining for a year.  He guessed that it would be long and slender to match the rest of Merlin’s body, becoming dark red with blood as it hardened quickly in his hand, matching the flush that would spread like a forest fire across his pale skin. 

Arthur’s imagined Merlin stroked himself slowly, letting loose a quiet moan.  One hand slid across his chest, stopping to brush his nipples with the thumb.  His other hand picked up in speed, and his hips began to thrust forward in the steamy air.  He only allowed himself to break his rhythm to reach for the lube.  He flipped the cap open and tucked the bottle under his chin so that he could squeeze out a huge blob of the liquid as though unwilling to stop the motion of his other hand for even a second. 

The bottle clunked to the floor, and those graceful, now _wet_ fingers slid behind him to just tease at his hole, pushing gently and sliding across the flesh but never slipping inside. 

_Come on,_ Arthur thought, _please, Merlin.  Oh, just do it.  Please._ He couldn’t handle Merlin’s teasing.

Merlin let out a surprised gasp as his index and middle finger slid in.

Arthur’s body went rigid as his orgasm burst from him, spattering the tile walls of the shower and making his knees go weak. 

He hadn’t even realized that he was touching himself as he imagined Merlin’s private shower time.  Oh, this was such a breach in houseguest etiquette!  Not only had he masturbated in the Emrys’ shower, he had done it while thinking of their son.  Their seventeen-year-old son.  How was he going to face them?

More importantly, how was he going to face Merlin now that his fantasies had become a thousand times more detailed? 

 

* * *

 

Hunith was waiting for him in the bright yellow kitchen.  Well, Hunith and the biggest breakfast buffet he had ever seen outside of a hotel.  Eggs, sausage, toast, pastries, cereal, yogurt – it looked like Hunith was expecting ten people for breakfast. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t ten people, but it felt like it as Arthur watched Will eat enough to feed a small family. 

Merlin’s best friends, Will and Freya, had been invited to breakfast so that they could meet “Merlin’s Mr. Pendragon.”  Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of them.  Will’s smile lit up his whole face, but he was hesitant to reach out his hand and shake.  Freya didn’t say anything, but immediately wrapped Arthur up in a hug, her tiny arms surprisingly strong.

Hunith explained that she had planned to work in her garden until her son arrived and that Balinor had gone into his office for a few hours and would pick up Merlin at the train station on his way home.  Will grinned around an enormous mouthful of, well, of _something_ , and informed Arthur that he and Freya were going to be playing video games in the living room and that Arthur was welcome to join them.

He actually managed to spend about an hour with them, halfheartedly playing Mario Kart as he attempted to digest the biggest breakfast he had eaten in years.  After the seventh or eighth match, he politely excused himself.       

He ended up back in Merlin’s bed, still sleepy and a little sore from his long flights.  Though he had every intention of rereading some of the assigned material for his course, the comfort of Merlin’s bed had him drifting off into a light sleep.

“Arthur!  Arthur!”

Hunith was pounding on his door.  She sounded frantic. 

He scrambled off the bed and to the door. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My sister – her baby is coming now!  It is a month too early!  I have to leave right now.  Will and Freya will stay here.  I am not…I can’t – ”

“Hunith, calm down.”  Arthur squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.  “Go be with your sister.  I will be fine.”

As Hunith searched frantically for her keys, Freya and Will attempted to calm her, but she continued to get more and more agitated.  Finally, Freya discovered the keys behind some of the dirty breakfast dishes, but refused to turn them over to Hunith. 

Freya told her something in a quiet yet assertive manner (for what felt like the hundredth time in the last year, Arthur wished that he spoke German), and Hunith started to argue. Will joined in, and finally, Hunith seemed to give in.  She and Freya left the house together, leaving Arthur alone with Will. 

If anyone had told Arthur that he’d be spending the day with a seventeen-year-old who _wasn’t_ Merlin, he would never have come to Austria.  But he should have realized that anyone Merlin liked enough to call his best friend would be someone worth getting to know.  Will’s English wasn’t nearly as good as Merlin’s, but he and Arthur had no problems communicating. 

Will took him on a walk through the neighborhood, pointing out things like the tree that Merlin got stuck in when he was five, the parking lot where Merlin crashed his bicycle and broke his arm, and (with a blush) the park where the two of them had their first kiss. 

All the dogs in a twenty-mile radius must have cringed at the squeal that came from Arthur.  “ _With each other?_ ”

Will giggled, obviously light years behind Merlin in terms of maturity.  “No, with a girl from school.  One day, she kissed all the boys in our class.”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember.  We were maybe ten years old.  But it was very cool.” 

Will grinned at the memory, but Arthur was hit with a flash of jealousy.  How dare some unknown girl touch her lips to Merlin’s?  Merlin was supposed to be _his_ , dammit!

Okay, this had to stop.  Merlin was a seventeen-year-old kid that Arthur had spent just three months with.  Arthur had no claim on him.  Not only would any kind of relationship be highly inappropriate, but _Arthur was married_.  He had to discover some way to squash these feelings, or he was going to do something crazy like throw himself at Merlin and suck at that lovely neck he had admired for so long, dragging a bruise to the surface like a mark of ownership. 

_Jesus, Arthur, why don’t you just piss on him to mark your territory?_   He shook his head to clear it and tuned back into Will’s chatter.

“…was so funny that we still talk about it.  So, are you hungry?  We can have lunch.”

If Arthur were in any sort of normal state of mind, he might have commented on Will’s seemingly insatiable appetite, but as it was, he just nodded, his head still stuck in that dreamspace where Merlin was something more to him than just a student he had once taught. 

Their walk to “Merlin’s favorite café, Mr. Pendragon” was interrupted by Will’s phone.  After fishing it out of one of his jacket’s cavernous pockets, he checked the display and turned it toward Arthur. 

“It’s Merlin!" 

Will answered in German, and Arthur, desperate to know what they were talking about, vowed to start taking classes as soon as he returned home. 

It was a long conversation, filled with what even Arthur could recognize as “oh, no.”  Will kept glancing at Arthur as he spoke, and Arthur, too focused on the thought that something was wrong, didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was listening to every word. 

Finally, Will handed the phone to Arthur and wandered out of earshot. 

“Merlin?”

“Hi, Mr. Pendragon.” 

Merlin sounded terrible, almost as though he was so exhausted that it was difficult to summon enough energy to speak. 

“What’s wrong?”

There was a long moment of silence, during which hundreds of horrible scenarios of a hurt or sick Merlin flashed in his mind. 

“Everything is fine, I promise.  My aunt had her baby, and it was early, but they are both fine.  She needed to have surgery, and we were very scared, but she is okay.  They will both have to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

“That’s good news!  I’m glad to hear that everyone is all right.”

“But…”

Merlin paused, and somehow Arthur knew that he wasn’t going to like hearing what came next.  Merlin’s words came out in a rush.

“But my mother needs me to stay here and help.  I have another cousin who is only two, and I need to stay with her while my mother is at the hospital.  I’m sorry, but…well, I will not be able to come home to see you.”

In that moment, Arthur realized how a plate must feel when it’s sitting on a tabletop, minding its own business, and some magician comes up and whips the tablecloth out from under it.  His feet were still planted firmly on the sidewalk, but he felt like the world had shifted beneath him. 

That night, as Will put him in a taxi bound for the train station, Arthur realized that he had no idea how the phone call had ended.  The only thing he knew was that he was two hours away from Merlin, so close that it seemed almost tangible, but they just couldn’t get to each other.

  

* * *

 

Paris was fantastic, as usual, but he couldn’t shake the disappointment that constantly lurked in the back of his mind.  Every beautiful sunset over the Seine made his heart ache a little.  It would have been so nice to share them with Merlin. 

He imagined them on a bateau mouche with all of the tourists, smiling as they sat with their arms around each other and watched the City of Lights begin to live up to its name.  He would lean in and kiss Merlin as they floated past the Eiffel Tower, both of them with their eyes open as the tower’s hourly light show began. 

He could imagine showing Merlin all of his favorite spots in the city: Sainte-Chappelle, the Pantheon, Napoleon’s tomb, the Parc des Buttes de Chaumont – the list was endless.  They would walk hand in hand through Montmartre, stopping to browse the street vendors’ artwork before climbing to the top of Sacre Coeur. 

He would take Merlin to his favorite restaurants and nightclubs, show him the spot where Morgana had her first kiss, and introduce him to his teachers and fellow students at the Sorbonne.

There was not a moment that passed that he didn’t think of Merlin.  He sent him an email every night on the pretext that Merlin was the only person he knew who would appreciate the details of his trip. 

Arthur spent a lot of time alone for the two weeks he was in Paris.  He didn’t feel much like fêting their achievements with his classmates and only joined them once for a celebratory drink.  He was sure that they found him unfriendly and standoffish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to see Merlin until the opportunity had disappeared. 

He even tried to change his airline tickets and extend his trip, but even if he could have, it wouldn’t have mattered.  Will’s older sister had been promising to take Will and Merlin to Prague for years, and they, _of course_ , had decided to leave now.  Merlin sounded so excited about the trip that Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to be angry; he was just sad. 

For the first time in his life, he was happy to leave Paris. 

 

**Chapter Thirteen**

_And I can almost find the words_  
 _But I can see the way you'd fold your hands_  
 _Speak my name like_  
 _A curse upon your pretty lips_  
 _The pressured white behind your fingertips_

Arthur was fully prepared to say that, without any exaggeration, this had been the worst week of his life.  On Monday, he’d visited the local library only to find three of his tires slashed when he returned to the parking lot.  Tuesday, Excalibur snuck past Gwen and ran into the woods.  Though they looked for hours, there was no sign of them.  As he was hanging LOST DOG flyers on Wednesday, he somehow managed to rip open his forearm on a small nail embedded in the telephone pole, requiring a trip to the hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot.  Thursday morning, he put some bread into the toaster and went to brush his teeth, only to hear the smoke detector and run in to discover that the toaster had caught on fire and scorched a large section of the kitchen wall.  Finally, on Friday, Arthur told his principal exactly what he thought of him (the word _asshole_ featured prominently in his opinion) and was officially disciplined.  A note describing the incident was added to his permanent personnel file, making a total of three in the last year.       

On top of all of this, Arthur and Gwen’s fighting had never been worse.  He’d actually slept in their guest bedroom three nights when the screaming became too much to bear. 

And though he really should spend his Friday afternoon and evening searching for Excalibur, he couldn’t bring himself to do it and instead, his first act upon returning home was to reach into the refrigerator for a beer.  In fact, he thought, two might be better.  The bottle opener was nowhere to be found, so he popped the tops off against the kitchen counter and downed one beer in a few seconds.  He brought the other into the living room, where he flopped down onto the sofa and toed off his shoes.

Consuming his second beer at only a slightly more leisurely pace, Arthur tried his hardest to not think about the shitty week he’d had and instead focus on what was going right in his life.  It was Friday, he had two new DVDs from Netflix, the weather was becoming more and more beautiful as spring approached, and he and his father had just begun to plan their annual camping trip. 

But it was so much easier to focus on the negative.  Throughout this whole hellish week, his emotions had been so close to the surface that it seemed as though that constant burn of anger and frustration was now a permanent part of him.  He chugged the rest of his beer and headed back into the kitchen for another bottle. 

Almost a six-pack and a half later, Arthur was still in the living room.  He’d abandoned the couch hours earlier and ended up curled into a ball on the dog’s bed in the corner of the room.  That’s where Gwen found him when she returned home from work.  “Arthur, what the hell?”

“Ah…Gwen, welcome home!”  His near-shout was accompanied by the tip of a bottle in her general direction.

“Arthur, are you drunk?” “No!  Whatcha mean, drunk?  Not me.” He attempted to prove his point by heaving himself up from his nest on the floor, but only managed to fall back on his ass when the dog’s blanked slipped on the hardwood floor. “Arthur!  What is wrong with you?  You ruin everything!” Gwen was almost shrieking, her body so tense that even Arthur, in his completely wrecked state, couldn’t miss how angry she was.  He tried to placate her in a way that had worked in the past: with compliments.

“Gwennie, you look so pretty tonight.  And your hair is so…nice.  And your shoes are very…well, they’re very pointy.” “Damnit, Arthur, can’t you do anything right?  First the dog, then the hospital, then the toaster – and now you’re drunk!” Gwen stomped toward the door, retrieved her phone and keys from the little basket hanging on the entranceway wall, wrenched open the door, and left, pausing only long enough to scream, “I’m going to Morgana’s house.  I’m not coming back until you’ve stopped being so useless and disgusting!”

_Fuck.  That could have gone better._

He may have slept for a while.  Or he may have stared at the ceiling and contemplated the meaning of life – he had no idea.  All he knew was that right at that moment, it was really dark.  And everything was spinning.  And the house was too damn quiet with no dog in it. 

_But_ – but he had a fantastic idea.  Pandas.  YouTube videos of pandas.  Sneezing ones, baby ones, the one that does ninja-like somersaults… that’s what he needed.  Lots of panda videos.  How could anyone watch pandas and not feel happy? 

_Crap_.  This meant moving.  Arthur did a sort of belly-crawl across the living room, laughing as his dress clothes slid across the floorboards.  From his prone position, he was _just_ able to reach his laptop and pull it down to the floor.  Further movement seemed like too much work, so he simply opened his computer and propped his chin on the floorboards. 

His eyes were a little blurry, and everything was, if not exactly spinning, not moving the way it should.  He squinted at the notification window that popped up as his screen lit up, trying to determine the correct button to click. 

_This one looks good_. 

He clicked and the screen was suddenly filled with a face.  A pale face surrounded by dark hair. 

“Merlin!  Whatchoo you doin’ here?  Do you have the pandas?” “Mr. Pendragon?  Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m all right…whatd’ya mean, am I all right?” “Are you sure?”

“Yessssss, I’m sure,” Arthur giggled and then stared directly at Merlin, though he had to cross his eyes a little bit to make them focus. “Merlin, where are the pandas?” “Um, why do you need pandas, Mr. P.?” “Pandas are happy.  They sneeze!  I need to see them.  To get happy.  Don’t ya have pandas in Australia, I mean Austria?  Ooh, don’t foreign exchange students know about pandas?  I can tell you _everything_.  D’you wanna know?”

But before Arthur could tell Merlin all about pandas, his chin slipped from its resting place on the floor and the resulting coolness of the floorboard against his cheek was comforting enough that he knew it was going to be a great place to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur didn’t wake until almost noon the next day, judging by the amount of light flooding the living room.  He attempted to quickly move out of the beams of sunlight streaming in through the open curtains, only to be stopped by the rolling in his stomach and the pounding in his head.  It felt much better just to sink back down to the floor and squeeze his eyes tightly shut.  In fact, maybe it would just be better to go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, his stomach made the decision for him, as a few moments later he was forced to run for the bathroom to avoid being sick on the floor.  He made it just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, all the while holding his head as the heaving made the drumbeat throbbing in his temples that much worse. 

Arthur emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and headed straight for the medicine cabinet.  A handful of painkillers were definitely required for his worst hangover he’d had since he was eighteen.  And though he had a little bit of trouble twisting open the cap on his bottle of sports drink, he was ultimately able to down the pills and hope they would do something to allow him to feel passably human again.

_All right_ , he told himself.  _Gotta get moving.  Need to find my phone and see if anybody’s spotted Excalibur._

Heading for his phone on its charger in the living room, he almost tripped over his laptop.  He settled into his favorite spot on the couch, reached for his phone, and sat the laptop next to him. 

No texts about the dog, no emails, nothing.  Just one message from Morgana: a picture of their father and his girlfriend kissing at the dinner table with the caption _My eyes!  My eyes!_

As he ran a finger over the laptop’s touchpad to wake it up, he wondered why he had ever thought that getting completely wasted was going to help solve any of his problems.

The screen lit up, and Arthur was surprised to see an open Skype window.  The video screen was gray, but the program notification read _MerlinEmrys is now offline_. 

_I talked to Merlin last night?  Shit.  I don’t remember it at all._

He had the cursor poised over the button to close the program when he noticed the message bar at the bottom of the screen.

_I’m sorry you’re so sad.  I wish I could help you._

* * *

 

Arthur woke alone on the morning of his seventh wedding anniversary.  He could hear Gwen moving around in the kitchen, so he dressed quickly, preparing to face their traditional anniversary breakfast. 

But when he got to the bottom of the steps, he noticed two things: Gwen was dressed in workout clothing _and_ the only “food” in sight was her disgusting protein shake. 

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about stopping them. 

“No breakfast?”

Gwen’s eyes flashed.  She was obviously already angry, and Arthur’s question had pushed her irritation level further. 

“No, there is no breakfast.  I didn’t realize that I’m the only person in this house who can make breakfast!  You know – ”

“Whoa,” he interrupted, “that’s not what I meant.  I was just surprised that we aren’t having our anniversary breakfast.  It’s a tradition.”

“Yeah, well, traditions don’t seem to be going very well lately – in case you hadn’t noticed.  If we keep doing the same stupid things, nothing is ever going to get better!”

“Gwen, what the hell are you talking about?  It’s just eggs and bacon!  We do it every year!”

Gwen grabbed her protein shake and keys and headed for the door. 

“Well, I’m going for a run.  You can do it yourself this year.”

The slam of the door behind her seemed to echo in Arthur’s head for hours. 

Probably because neither of them spoke to each other for the rest of the day.  

  

* * *

That evening, Arthur noticed Gwen’s facebook status. 

She had attached a copy of their wedding photo and written _Wonderful, fantastic anniversary with my super-sweet husband of seven years_.

Was she trying to confuse him?  Did she actually think that complete silence made for a fantastic anniversary?  Or was she being more immature than some of his students and trying to get him to argue with her in the very public forum that was Facebook?  

He longed for the Gwen he had married when he was twenty-three.  She never would have fought with him about something as stupid as breakfast. 

  

* * *

 

It was 5:30 in the morning and Arthur just could not sleep.  He’d already responded to all of his emails, uploaded his latest vacation pictures, played fifteen games of Solitaire, and even checked his status on ratemyteacher.com (not too bad, but he was still rated slightly more ‘hot’ than ‘personable’).  He finally gave up and realized that enough was enough and prepared to head to bed, deciding to check facebook one last time before he went upstairs.

Arthur’s relationship with Facebook had changed quite a bit since he began using it as a twenty-one-year-old.  Then, it was all booze and parties and football scores.  He and his friends had watched (and commented) as they all graduated, interviewed, and eventually found jobs.  Today, as his friends had all “grown up,” it was full of baby pictures, status updates about babies, and potty training progress.  It was disgusting. 

This meant that logging into Facebook was more habit than anything else.  Check for new notifications and messages, scroll quickly through status updates, then log out.  Tonight he had two notifications:

**Uther Pendragon** commented on your status update.  
 **Leon Ricci** posted to your wall.

Both were unimportant.  Uther had simply commented “can’t wait!!!” on Arthur’s status about their camping trip and Leon had sent him what seemed like the tenth LOLcat picture in as many days.  As Arthur moved the cursor to the right of his screen to log out, a message notification popped up.  It was Merlin. _Mr P. I need to talk to you as soon as you get this.  Please._

Arthur responded immediately.  _Skype?_

_OK_

Before Arthur could even minimize his Internet browser, he’d received an invitation to videochat.  As soon as he accepted, Merlin’s face filled the screen. 

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” He looked totally unlike himself.  Instead of his usual neat polo or button-up, Merlin was wearing a faded blue sweatshirt with a frayed collar and a hole in the left shoulder seam.  His eyes were red.  It was obvious that he had been crying. 

From the little Arthur could see of the bedroom, it looked as though Merlin had been crying for quite a while.  The desktop was littered with used tissues. 

“Merlin, did something happen?  Are you all right?”

Merlin didn’t answer.  He lowered his eyes and brought the sleeve of his sweatshirt to his running nose as though to wipe it, but midmotion pressed his hand to his mouth and sobbed.

Arthur couldn’t remember a time when he felt more helpless.  “Merlin, please talk to me.  You’re scaring me!  Are you all right?” Merlin didn’t answer, only released another sob that sounded as if it had been ripped directly from his chest.  Arthur had to find out what was happening.  And quickly.  He changed his tactics.  

Speaking much more softly, Arthur told Merlin, “Listen, I need to know what the problem is.  It’s okay if you can’t talk.  Do you think you can type?  I want to help, Merlin.  Please let me help.”

Merlin glanced up slightly, eyes never meeting Arthur’s, and nodded. _something happened tonight_

And that was it.  Merlin stopped typing, sat back, and rested his head on his forearms.  Arthur could still see the shaking of his back that indicated Merlin was still crying.  “All right,” he said slowly, “can you tell me any more?”

Merlin sat up and took what was obviously meant to be a deep breath but was cut short by his tears.  

_I had sex_

Arthur was glad that Merlin wasn’t looking at him as he wasn’t sure what showed on his face.  His thoughts were racing.  Based on Merlin’s immediate need to talk and his charged emotional state, Arthur had assumed that something had happened to Hunith or Balinor.  Or that Will or Freya had been hurt. 

But sex?  He thought back to his first time and, yes, it had been awkward and uncomfortable, but it had certainly not made him cry.  Then it hit him. “Merlin, are you hurt?” There was no response from Merlin but more sobs, shaking his whole upper body. Arthur changed his tone, speaking more softly and slowly. “Can you please just let me know if you’re okay?  Merlin, please.  Was it – I mean, did you…?” For a few moments, it looked as though Merlin wouldn’t respond.  Arthur was already scrolling through the contact numbers in his phone, desperately hoping he’d kept the number for the house in Vienna, when Merlin returned to the keyboard.

_I’m not hurt_

_and yes I consented so don’t worry_

“Then, Merlin – I’m sorry, Merlin, I don’t understand what’s wrong.  Can you please tell me why you’re so upset?” 

At this, Merlin pushed away from his desk and threw himself onto his bed, where he sat, knees pulled to his chin, and finally addressed the camera.  “I’m upset because…” He paused, brought his hands up to tangle in his hair, and practically spat the next words at Arthur. “Because I did it for the wrong reasons.  And now I’m disgusted at myself!”

Arthur knew instinctively that he shouldn’t push Merlin on his reason.  What Merlin needed right now was to calm down. “Merlin, will you please do something for me?  I promise you it will help.” “Please don’t ask me to go talk to my parents!” Arthur chuckled.  “No, it’s definitely not that.  I wouldn’t wish that conversation on anyone.” “Then what?”  Merlin was visibly frustrated, his body so tense that Arthur felt that one not-carefully-considered word would shatter him.  “I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now.” “It’s okay.  I know.  You don’t have to talk at all.  Just do me a favor and lie down on your side.” He saw Merlin’s eyebrows go up in confusion. “I mean it.  Lie down on your side – you can face the camera if you want, but you don’t have to.” Arthur was working hard to make Merlin feel as comfortable as possible, and it paid off as Merlin took his advice and rolled onto his side, his back to the webcam. 

“Okay, now here’s what I want you to do.  I promise you, Merlin, it will make you feel so much better.  Grab one of your pillows.” He waited, pleased to see that Merlin didn’t hesitate before reaching for it. “Now I want you to wrap your arms around the pillow and squeeze it.  Squeeze it as tightly as you can and keep squeezing until I say stop.” He watched, fascinated, as this young man living thousands of miles away tensed his body around a pillow, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining.  Merlin no longer appeared to be sobbing, though Arthur could still hear his noisy, tear-choked breathing.

“All right, that’s enough.  Let go.”

He had no idea if it had helped Merlin at all, but there were only so many things he could do from across the ocean.  Normally he’d have no trouble making his friend feel better, but the fact that the sadness and frustration came from sex made things much more complicated. 

Oh, well.  Arthur threw caution to the wind and dealt with Merlin the same way he would have had he been upset about anything else. 

“Okay, now here’s what I’d like you to do.  I need you to answer some questions for me. You don’t have to talk – you can just shake your head.  Is that all right?” Merlin nodded, his face turned slightly toward the camera.

“You know that I care about you, right?  And that I’d do whatever it took to make you happy?” The nod was a noticeably smaller movement this time, but he _did_ nod.

“All right, now.  If I were there, I’d give you a huge hug.  But since I can’t, here’s what I want you to do.  Take your other pillow and prop it up against the wall.” He watched as Merlin complied, taking his larger, full-body pillow and leaning it on the wall.  Arthur was glad that the bed was pushed against the wall, or this wouldn’t work. “Now I want you to put your back against that pillow and take the other one with you.  Hold it.  Just relax between the two pillows.” Merlin settled down like a kitten or a puppy, snuggling until he found a comfortable position.

“Now I want you to just lie there.  I can’t be with you, but I swear that if I could, I’d hug you for as long as you wanted me to.  Imagine that it’s me behind you, hugging you until everything starts to feel all right again.  Because that’s what I’d do.  All I want is for you to be happy, Merlin.” Arthur was shocked to realize that he was beginning to sound a little choked up.  It couldn’t be because he was starting to cry, though.  It was just Merlin’s overemotional state influencing how he was feeling.  It had to be.  Because Arthur didn’t cry.  About anything.  He continued on.

“Is this helping?  Just hug your pillow and feel the one behind you.  I’ll always have your back, Merlin.  I’ll always be there for you.  Do you understand that?” Merlin nodded, eyes closed tightly.  He looked so small and vulnerable in that moment that Arthur would have headed straight for the airport if he could have afforded the airline ticket. 

“Just go to sleep.  Relax your body and try to sleep.  I promise you it will help.  I promise.”

“Mr. Pendragon?”  Merlin’s voice seemed an octave higher than usual.  “This helps.  I’m going to go to sleep.  Will you…?”

Arthur knew what he was asking.  “Yes, I’ll stay.  Do you want me to keep talking?” Merlin nodded. “All right, how about if I read to you?  I’m no good at storytelling.” Arthur grabbed the first book he could reach.  It turned out to be _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_. “ _It is a truth universally acknowledged...”_

He stopped, needing to hear one thing from Merlin.  “Will you promise me that we can talk more about this tomorrow?”

He hadn’t expected a response, but he needed to know that Merlin was going to talk to someone about what had happened. 

“Merlin, sweetheart, will you promise me?  Please?” At Merlin’s nod, Arthur began again, painfully aware of the fact that he had just called Merlin ‘sweetheart.’ “ _It is a truth universally acknowledged…”_ He read until he heard Merlin’s even breathing turn into snoring, then typed a message.  _Please understand that you can talk to me about anything and I’ll never judge you._ He added his cell phone number. _Call or text any time you need to.  And you’re an adult.  Please call me Arthur.  :)_

And although it was nearly 7:00 in the morning, Arthur did not go to bed.  Instead, he sat and watched the young man who had become his best friend sleep in his imaginary embrace. 

Gwen found them an hour later, Merlin on the screen hugging a pillow and Arthur’s forehead on his book, an arm stretched out as if to touch the computer screen.  

 

**Chapter Fourteen**  
  
 _We were born without meaning, we will die without reason_  
 _And the world will not shrug all that much at our passing_  
 _Yes you can try and try and try_  
 _But no one ever makes it out alive_

 Arthur’s life changed forever on a Monday. 

The morning started out well.  Merlin had sent him an email explaining all of the different universities he was considering.  All of them were in the United States, and more than half of them were less than a three hour drive from Arthur’s home.  He went to work dizzily excited at the possibility of being that close to Merlin. 

A group of three students was in the middle of an oral presentation on France’s involvement in the American Revolution when the principal appeared at the classroom door. 

“Ladies, I’m sorry to interrupt.  Mr. Pendragon, I need to speak to you.  Now.”

Arthur, confused, followed his boss into the hallway.  He replayed the events of the last few days in his head, wondering if he had done anything wrong.

“Arthur, we just got a call from the hospital.  Your father had a heart attack.  He’s in surgery.  It…Arthur, it doesn’t look good.  You need to go now.  I’ll watch the kids.”

Arthur had his backpack on his shoulder and was out the front door in what was probably less than thirty seconds, but felt more like thirty minutes.  Everything was moving so slowly – he couldn’t make his body move as quickly as he needed it to. 

Then there was the traffic.  Everyone was driving so _slowly_ – didn’t they know that his father’s life was hanging in the balance?  He made the twenty minute trip to the hospital in just under fifteen minutes and parked in the first spot he saw, in such a hurry to find out what was going on that he sprinted through the emergency room doors, pushing past the few people waiting in line to yell at the receptionist. 

“Uther Pendragon?  I’m his son!  Where is he?”

Before the receptionist could even consult his computer, Arthur heard Morgana’s voice and ran toward the sound.

Her face was ashen and tear-streaked as she grabbed his hands and began speaking faster than he thought was humanly possible.  “He collapsed on the golf course.  He’s been in surgery for almost an hour now.  They’re not telling us anything, Arthur.”

Suddenly, Morgana’s arms were around Arthur’s neck and her sobs were all that he could hear. 

 

* * *

 

“Gwen?”

“Listen, I’m really busy right now.  Could you call me back later?  I have a ton of things to finish before this meeting and I –”

“Gwen.”

“This new girl just started and she needed help running the computer system –”

“Gwen!”

She sounded exasperated.  “What?”

“Dad died.”

“Oh my god, Arthur, what happened?  Are you all right?  Is Morgana –”

“We’re at the hospital.  Just please come pick us up.”

  

* * *

 

Gwen got Arthur and Morgana buckled into the backseat of her car for the silent ride home.  She took them both by the hand, led them into the house, and gently pushed Morgana into the guest room, asking her to lie down and assuring her that her boyfriend, Helios, would be arriving soon.

Gwen pulled Arthur through the door of their bedroom and gestured at the bed.  Arthur climbed in, rolling onto his side and pulling his knees up toward his chest.  His eyes were only closed for a few seconds before he felt Gwen’s gentle hands removing his shoes.  She pressed a soft kiss to his temple and ran a hand through his hair before leaving the room, only to return a few minutes later to press something soft against his arms. 

His arms curled reflexively around it as the shock and horror of the day washed over him, forcing him into unconsciousness.     

He slept fitfully, waking over and over again.  Each time, he woke clutching his stuffed Merlin, confused, disoriented, and completely unable to process why he was feeling so horrible.  And each time, the crushing wave of grief eventually rolled over him until he started sobbing, the cycle beginning again when he cried himself back to sleep.    

 

* * *

 

The overhead light was blinding.

“Arthur, are you all right?  Guess what, honey, somebody – ”

He rolled over onto his stomach.

“I don’t want to talk.  Please just go away.”

“But – ”

“Gwen, get out!”

It wasn’t until a wet nose pressed against his cheek that he realized someone had found Excalibur.  The dog licked him once and seemed to understand that Arthur wanted some space, because he moved to lie down on the floor beside the bed. 

 

* * *

 

He didn’t speak to anyone for four days.  He didn’t eat, didn’t drink, didn’t do anything but cry and sleep.  Finally, Morgana, always better in a crisis than he was, threw herself onto the bed next to him. 

It turned out that even in death, Uther was taking care of them.  Most likely due to his experience dealing with his wife’s death, their father had planned every aspect of his funeral to the point that neither of his children had to do anything but attend the service. 

Uther was an only child, as was Igraine, so Arthur and Morgana represented the entirety of the Pendragon family at the private wake held before the service.  The only other people in attendance were Gwen, her brother, and Uther’s few close friends.

The casket was open for an hour so that everyone could say their goodbyes.  Arthur and Morgana stood near the room’s entrance as everyone filed by, then took turns shaking hands and offering hugs to the two of them.  Finally, only Arthur and his sister were left in the room. 

Morgana grabbed his hand. 

“Come with me?”

He nodded. 

It was time. 

For Arthur, this was what was important.  The funeral service was just a formality, a tradition, something that would help people accept Uther’s death.  For him, it was this moment, the last time that he would ever see his father’s face, that counted.

Morgana pulled him toward the casket, where she brushed her free hand through Uther’s hair and bent to kiss his forehead.  She said something so quietly that Arthur could not hear it, and then stood and turned to face Arthur.

“Do you want some time alone?”

“Please.”

He waited until he heard the door close behind her before he moved to stand by his father’s head. 

Oh, god, this was the last time he was ever going to see him.  There would be no more camping trips, no more hikes, no more Sunday breakfasts – this was it. 

“Dad.  I’m so sorry that we didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.  You’ve been my best friend for my whole life, and…and I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

He was so tired of crying.      

“I’ve always tried to be the kind of man you wanted me to be, and I hope I haven’t disappointed you.  I’m going to miss you so much.”      

He squeezed Uther’s arm through the suit jacket, right over the dragon tattoo that matched the one on his own bicep.    

“Thank you for everything.  I love you.  Goodbye, Dad.”

When he closed the lid of the casket, it felt like he was sealing part of himself inside.

  

* * *

 

The service and burial passed in a blur.  Arthur only surfaced from his daze when he realized the rest of the mourners had gone and he and Morgana were the only people left to see the casket being lowered into the ground.  Morgana handed him a yellow carnation (oh, those had been his mother’s favorite), and together the two of them dropped their flowers into the grave.

Morgana pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a final kiss toward the casket.  Arthur had nothing more to do or say, so he simply turned and headed out of the cemetery.

 

* * *

 

He heard the annoying buzz of another voice mail notification and decided to finally just check them.  After all, he hadn’t so much as glanced at his phone for the last five days.

Every text, missed call, and message was from Merlin. 

_Arthur?_

_Is everything ok?_

_Everybody says you haven’t been in school for a few days_

The next day:

_Will you please answer me?_

_Please just let me know you’re ok_

_I’m worried_

Two days later:

_I’m going to call you_

_P_ _lease talk to me_

Eight missed calls. 

Finally, a message.  It was short:  “Arthur, this is Merlin.  I just heard.  I’m so, so sorry.  Please just talk to me or send me a message so that I know you’re all right.  Nobody has heard from you and I’m really worried.  I just want to hear from you.  Please.”

Then one last text:

_I hope you’re not alone.  I hope you have somebody to talk to and you’re not trying to get through this by yourself.  I would come to you if I could._

 

* * *

 

Arthur finally called Merlin, though he wasn’t sure why.  Nothing anyone could say, even Merlin, would make him feel any better. 

Merlin answered immediately. 

“Arthur!  I’m so happy to hear from you!

“Hel – ”

He had to clear his throat; he had become so unused to talking over the last week. 

“Hello, Merlin.”

“Are you all right?  I have been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay, I guess.”

Both men were silent for a few moments – Merlin obviously not sure what to say and Arthur not wanting to say anything at all.  Arthur’s breathing sounded loud in the stillness of his bedroom. 

“Arthur, is there anybody helping you through this?  Is Gwen taking care of you?”

“Yeah, she’s been fantastic.  I’m so lucky to have her.”

His attempt at sarcasm fell flat, his voice still raspy and monotone from disuse. 

“Oh.  That’s great.” 

  

 

**Chapter Fifteen**

_'Cause when fidelity runs low_  
 _That there’s the moment when you choose_  
 _In the life of things you love_  
 _Some you keep_  
 _Some you lose_

The rest of the year passed in a haze.  Arthur went to work, put in his time, and left.  He stopped acting as advisor to clubs and turned down any invitations to parties from fellow faculty members. 

He spent a lot of time in his garage.  He would sit in front of his workbench, choose a scrap of lumber at random, and either cut it down further with his table saw or drill holes into it.  He never actually made anything, and when Gwen asked to see what he was working on, he simply told her that it was a secret. 

Having something to do with his hands, even if it served no purpose, made him feel better.  At least, it allowed his mind the opportunity to focus on the task at hand and not think about everything that was now missing from his life.

 

* * *

 

In Arthur’s opinion, people who said, “Well, at least it can’t get any worse,” were full of shit.  Because it could get so, so much worse. 

Merlin’s latest Facebook status read:

_Finally decided – I’m going to the University of Vienna!_

Arthur had been pinning all of his hopes on Merlin choosing to attend a university near his home, or, barring that, at least on the same coast of the United States as he lived.  And now Merlin had elected to stay in Europe.  And he hadn’t even told Arthur himself; he had to learn it from a Facebook status. 

He had thought that Merlin wanted to go to school in the U.S. more than anything.  It had been one of the first things that he had ever said to Arthur, and they had been talking about it as a certainty for almost two years.    

Maybe it was time to give up.  To grow up.  To move on from this fantasy of ever sharing any kind of life with Merlin.  He should just acknowledge that he had helped Merlin during a difficult time in his life, but that Merlin didn’t owe him anything.

He should give up.

But he couldn’t.   

 

* * *

  

It took Arthur nearly fifteen minutes just to gather up enough courage to send his sister the text message.

_I have to talk to you. Can I come over?_

Her immediate reply made him think that she must have been sitting with the phone in her hand. 

_Want to have dinner?_

_Okay. Not very hungry though._

_See you soon._

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how to start.  Morgana had always been his confidant, the one person he could tell anything.  But sitting in their tree house talking about how nervous he was to kiss his first girlfriend was so much less frightening than sitting in Morgana’s gorgeous blue and white living room, preparing to confess something this big, that Arthur just wanted to go home and forget about it.  

“Arthur, are you okay?  You’re starting to worry me.  Oh god, you’re not sick, are you?”

“No.  It’s nothing like that.  I just need your advice.”

“Okay.  Ask away.”

He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat.  His face was hot, but the rest of his skin felt clammy.  He had to call this off – it was just too hard.

Morgana, though, knew exactly what he needed. 

“Come here,” she said, raising her arm and inviting Arthur to scoot in against her side.  He snuggled in, finding comfort in her familiar scent. 

“Morgana,” he finally ventured, “do you think I’m happy?”

One thing he had always loved about his sister was her impetuousness, so it was surprising when he didn’t receive an immediate answer.  She seemed to be considering her answer carefully.

“Well, neither of us are completely happy right now.  Nobody can expect us to be.  But you mean something else, right?”

He took a deep breath.  This was it.

“I don’t think I’m in love with Gwen anymore.”

A gasp, a question, a stunned silence – he could have handled any of those.  In fact, he had expected them.  He wasn’t prepared for what actually happened.

“What are you talking about?” Morgana shouted, whipping her arm back from around him as though he had burned her.  “How can you sit here and say something like that?”

“But…I thought…you know what, never mind.”

“No, Arthur, not ‘ _never mind_.’ You tell me right now exactly what is going on.”

She was right, of course.  He couldn’t give up now, he couldn’t let this conversation end like the one with his father had.  He needed to get this all out in the open.

“Okay, but can you please stop acting like you hate me?”

It seemed like Morgana’s glare, perfect for terrifying her employees, also worked on her brother.  Arthur was so afraid of what she was going to say, but he had to do this.

“Gwen and I haven’t gotten along for years.  It’s not her, and it’s not me – we’re just not the same people we were when we were in high school.  I think that if we had waited, had lived together for a while first, we never would have decided to get married.”

“Arthur, people change!  That’s part of being in a committed relationship, you dumbass.  People _evolve_.  Your relationship evolves, and so do you.”  Her initial anger forgotten, all of this was said fondly, as though her poor little brother was too stupid to understand adult relationships. 

“That’s the problem, Morgana,” he whispered.  “I think that my evolution has taken a really fucked up turn.”

Morgana stood and began to pace the length of the room.  “I feel like you’re speaking in code.  Just tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I’m not in love with Gwen.  I _love_ her, I’ll probably always love her, but I’m not _in love_ with her.”

“Bullshit.  That’s like the worst line from every sitcom ever.  There is no distinction.  You love Gwen, end of story.”

“But I don’t!”  He had finally had it.  He was sick of hearing this.  If he just told Morgana the truth, she would understand.  “I love…I love –”

Her anger returned in an instant. 

“No fucking way, Arthur Pendragon.  I will not stand here and listen to you tell me that you’re having an affair.  Gwen and I will get together and cut your balls off.  I don’t care that you’re my brother – Gwen is my best friend.  If you tell me that you’re cheating on her, I’m going to kill you.”

“Calm down!  I’m not having an affair!  I’m just…I’m in love, Morgana.  I have been for years.”

“Who is it, Arthur?  Somebody from work?  Where did you meet her?”

“Morgana, please sit down,” he begged.  “Can’t we just talk without you yelling at me?”

“Fine,” she hissed, dropping onto the couch as far away from him as possible.  “Who is it?”

“It’s – ”  His voice broke and he had to start again.  “It’s…I’ve never told anybody this, Morg.  But I’m just so fucking miserable that I have to tell somebody.  I need to get this off my chest.”

He swallowed, closed his eyes, and said softly, “It’s Merlin.  I’m in love with Merlin.”

Morgana was silent for so long that he was afraid she had left.  He didn’t dare open his eyes, though.  She hadn’t yelled at him, hadn’t slapped him – maybe everything was going to be okay.

The sound of tinkling glass against glass was the only sign that his sister was still in the room.  He heard her take a noisy swallow of whatever alcohol she obviously needed to get through the conversation.

“So, what, you’re gay now?”  Morgana sighed.  “No.  You’re just confused.  Here’s what you’re going to do.  Go home, get over whatever little problem you and Gwen are having, man up, and stop saying shit like this.  I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this is not _you_.  I’m worried about you, Arthur!  See a shrink or something, because there’s obviously something really wrong.”

“It’s not like this is what I want!  Life would be a thousand times easier if I could just stop thinking about him, but he’s the only person who makes me happy.  I love him, Morgana, and I even tried to tell Dad about him, but I – ”

Morgana interrupted, not with more yelling, but in a careful, emotionless tone that Arthur had never heard before.  “No, don’t talk about Dad.  He has nothing to do with this.  Arthur, he would be ashamed of you.  Not just because you think that you’re in love with some kid, but because you’re throwing away your life with Gwen.  Dad never really talked about our mother, but I know he was completely devoted to her.  He never would have given up on her.  And he would never forgive you for giving up on Gwen.”

Arthur wanted nothing more than to run away from what he was hearing, but he was frozen in his chair.

“Morgana,” he whispered, “I thought I could tell you anything.  That you were the one person who could understand me.”

She reached out as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but changed her mind at the last second. 

“I’m sorry, but you thought wrong.  Goodbye, Arthur.  Please don’t talk to me until you’re making sense again.” 

 

* * *

 

There was nothing left to do, nobody left on his side.  Maybe this _was_ what he was supposed to do.

He knew that Gwen was out for a run, so he could call without having to actually talk to her.  It was the most depressing message he had ever left in his life. 

“Okay, Gwen, let’s have a baby.”

 

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

_I did my very best, I've given you these years_  
 _Of love and understanding, telephone calls and tears_  
 _But now the little things you do that used to make me love you_  
 _Now just cramp my heart a little and let it slip_

 

Gwen was ecstatic, of course.  She wanted to start “practicing” as soon as Arthur walked through the door.

It wasn’t until Arthur was trying to find the tee-shirt that Gwen had thrown across the room in her haste to get under his clothing that Gwen finally asked, “What changed your mind?”

He had no good answer.  _I finally gave up_ wasn’t what any woman wanted to hear.

“I don’t know, Gwen, it just seemed like the right time.  You want a baby so bad.  So, I guess…I guess we should try.”

 

* * *

 

The next year passed in a blur.  When Gwen didn’t get pregnant after six months, they made an appointment with a fertility specialist, which led to rounds and rounds of tests for both of them.  They were both judged perfectly healthy, and multiple doctors were unable to explain why they were having difficulty conceiving.

As expected, their inability to get pregnant placed further strain on their relationship.  Despite what their doctors told them, Gwen was convinced that the blame rested solely on Arthur. 

“Maybe we’re not getting pregnant because you don’t want to!” she shouted. 

“Gwen, that makes no sense!  It’s a biological process that has nothing to do with what I’m thinking!  And why do you think that I don’t want you to get pregnant?”

Gwen poked him in the chest with one manicured fingernail.  “You haven’t wanted to since the beginning!  I practically have to drag you to the appointments, and you don’t say anything once we’re there!” 

“It’s not like –”

“No,” she interrupted, “I don’t want to hear it!  You need to either start acting like you give a shit about this or you need to get out of this house!” 

“But I only –”

“Just stop with the excuses.  We’re going to have a baby together, dammit!” 

The dishes in the cabinets rattled with the force Gwen used to slam the bedroom door. 

 

* * *

 

The house was completely quiet for once.  Gwen must have already left, and Excalibur was still sleeping.  For the first time in what seemed like years, Arthur was excited at the prospect of sleeping late on a Saturday morning.  But as he rolled over to bury himself once again in the blankets, his phone rang.

It was a number that he didn’t recognize, and that was the only reason he answered.

He had to clear his throat a few times before he was able to speak.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Arthur.  It’s Gaius.”

Gaius?  What could his father’s best friend possibly want this early on a Saturday morning?

“Hi, Gaius.  What’s up?”

“Are you aware that Morgana has tasked me with sorting through your father’s books?”

He was, in fact.  After the funeral, Arthur had been too shattered to go through any of Uther’s possessions and had delegated the task to his sister.  There had been no offers on the house yet, but Morgana was working as quickly as possible to remove their father’s possessions. 

“Yes, I knew that.  Why?”

“One of the boxes contained his personal journals.  I don’t feel as though it’s my place to read them, but I don’t think that I can bring myself to dispose of them.  Will you take them?”

He had to swallow the lump rising in his throat before answering.  “I…yes, I will.”

Arthur missed his father so much that the idea of just seeing his handwriting again, of reading words that he had written, made his heart ache.

“Can I come over and get them this morning?”

“Certainly!  I will be here all day.”

“Thank you, Gaius.”

 

* * *

 

The journals were beautiful, each one bound in red leather, the corners worn from repeated handling.  Arthur had no idea that his father had even kept a journal, and the idea that he had been ignorant of something that appeared to be such an integral part of Uther’s life, judging by the number of books, had him feeling almost ashamed. 

It was one thing to hold each book in his hand and caress the soft leather.  It was another thing completely to actually open them.  He was terrified.  What was he going to learn about his father?  Should he even be reading these?

Hands shaking slightly, he began.  Printed carefully on the oldest book’s cover page was

“Property of Uther Pendragon, Age 12,” and Arthur rubbed his thumb across the handwriting that was so like his own. 

He decided to page through the books and not read them from start to finish just yet, both in the interest of time and of his sanity.  It would be easy to throw himself into his father’s books, his father’s words, and forget that the rest of the world existed.  But it would undoubtedly lead to even more sadness as he missed Uther that much more. 

Paging through the first journal, Arthur noticed that his father appeared to have written only when something interested him.  There was no set schedule, and topics ranged from schoolwork to arguments with his parents to plans for his future life.  It was exactly the way Arthur imagined he would have written a journal at the age of twelve, and he couldn’t hold back a small smile at yet another way he was discovering that he and his father were alike. 

Scattered throughout the journal entries were small doodles: Uther’s name written in block letters, stars and spirals of dark ink, and dragons.  Dragons were everywhere, starting in the first book as just vaguely spherical shapes with fangs, but gradually growing more detailed and precise.  In fact, on the last page of the third journal (the one that chronicled Uther’s transition from university life to the working world) the dragon drawing that Arthur found was an exact copy of the one that both he and his father had tattooed onto their arms. 

Just when he thought that he had finally stopped crying, that he had shed as many tears for his father as he could, he was right back where he started on the horrible day nearly three years ago when a grim-faced doctor approached him and Morgana in the emergency department waiting room.   

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he discovered yet another thing he hadn’t known about his father.  When Uther presented him with the drawing for their tattoos, Arthur had assumed that it was drawn by the tattoo artist, not by his own father!  Why had Uther never told him?  Why didn’t he feel as though he could share that with his own son? 

He was so frustrated that he almost threw the book across the room, but he checked himself just in time. 

Gwen walked in just then, and, taking in the look on his face, gently pried the book from his hand, and gently pushed him out of the room, softly telling him that it was time to take a break.

 

* * *

 

A half hour of jogging, a long shower, and a quiet lunch calmed him enough to reevaluate the situation.  It was pointless for him to be angry with his father, not only because Uther was no longer able to defend himself, but because it didn’t really matter.  In fact, Arthur should be proud that his body bore a permanent mark designed by his father.

This thought in mind, when he returned to the journals, he resolved to not feel hurt when discovering things he didn’t know about his dad.  Instead, he approached the rest of the books with an eye toward discovering fascinating new things about the man who had been his inspiration and best friend.  

And it _was_ fascinating.  Arthur smiled when he saw his mother’s name scribbled over and over in the margins after Uther’s first date with her.  Uther described her as “stunning,” “captivating,” and “the woman that I am going to marry.”  He followed his parents’ whirlwind courtship, laughing at his father’s nervousness before he proposed, and blinking back tears at Uther’s attempts at writing his own wedding vows. 

Though he had never known his mother, Arthur couldn’t help but think that if she had loved Uther even half as much as he loved her, they would have been blissfully happy for the rest of their lives. 

Uther had obviously wanted children, and he had been ecstatic to learn that he and Igraine were expecting a baby.  Morgana’s birth was followed by pages and pages of observations on the new baby, and Arthur could practically feel the pride shining through Uther’s handwriting.

The news that another baby was on the way so quickly after the first only seemed to make Uther happier.  He had wished for a boy and hoped that Igraine would agree to name him Arthur.  It seemed as though Igraine didn’t love the name, and Uther had to work to convince her.  He tried out several names – Brian Pendragon, Eric Pendragon, Michael Pendragon, Jason Pendragon – but came back to Arthur every time, circling the name until his pen had torn a hole into the page. 

That particular journal ended with Igraine being just days away from her due date.  Though there were nearly fifty unfilled pages, Uther’s writing simply stopped there. 

Arthur had been born, and Igraine had died, in June.  Uther did not write anything until January 1st of the next year.  The first entry was just one line long: “This is the beginning of my first year without her.”

Even though he had never met his mother, he had felt her absence throughout his whole life.  It was hard enough just thinking about her death – he couldn’t bear to read his father’s reaction to it.  Vowing that he would come back to read it one day, he put aside the volume and turned to the next journal, flipping it open to the middle. 

He immediately wished that he hadn’t.  The first line that his eyes landed on was, “How am I supposed to go back to life as usual now that he’s gone?”  Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he realized he was reading about the death of Uther’s own father.

He didn’t want to read it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

_He was my best friend.  How can I go back to work and take care of the kids knowing that I’m never going to see him again?  I keep picking up the telephone to tell him about Arthur’s first tennis match or Morgana’s school play, and I’m halfway through dialing the number when I realize he’s gone.  How can I keep forgetting that?  It breaks my heart every time._

Two months later:

_I’m really trying.  I’m going to work, I’m cooking for the kids, I’m going to all of their school activities.  But I’m so lost.  Does it ever get better?  Father was the one person who made me believe that I could raise these kids on my own.  Now I don’t know what to do._

Arthur couldn’t hold back the tears this time.  He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape as he read his father’s thoughts that so closely echoed his own.  In that moment, though, his respect for his father increased tenfold as he compared their situations.  Arthur had lost his father, but he still had Gwen and Morgana.  Uther had lost his wife and father in the span of five years and had two small children to raise.  Though Arthur had only been five years old, he never once thought that his father had behaved any differently to them.  He had _always_ felt loved and cared for – there had never been one time in his life that his father hadn’t been there when he needed him. 

What a great man Uther Pendragon had been.  It was up to Arthur now to live up to his legacy as a loving husband and a wonderful father. 

 

* * *

 

This resolution didn’t mean that it suddenly became easier to deal with Gwen, but he really tried.  He made every attempt to avoid yelling whenever possible, and he tried to become involved in every aspect of their fertility problem, from researching new treatment methods to scheduling appointments with specialists. 

The one thing that he couldn’t help but fight about, though, was Gwen’s insistence on sharing all of their personal business on Facebook.  Arthur had, for the most part, ignored Facebook for the last year, so it was a huge surprise to discover the number of people who had been wishing them well in their efforts to have a child. 

Gwen’s latest status update read: _Still no luck getting pregnant, but Arthur is more committed than ever to having a baby.  He’s going to be such a good dad!_

He had just opened his mouth to yell at Gwen and demand that she stop posting things like that when a thatch of dark hair in a picture at the bottom of the screen caught his eye.  Scrolling down, he found Merlin squeezed into a photo booth with a short, brown-haired boy.  Merlin was smiling his huge, toothy grin, and the other boy was staring intently at the camera.  The caption read _Three month anniversary with Gilli <3._

Merlin…Merlin had a boyfriend.  He’d had a boyfriend for three months and he hadn’t even told Arthur about him.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t told Arthur _anything_ for months. 

When Arthur left Morgana’s house that night, he resolved to forget his unnatural attraction to Merlin.  He had turned all of his attention to Gwen, desperate to reignite the spark they once had into a healthy, loving relationship.

But it was impossible to forget about Merlin.  He had become a part of Arthur that he was unwilling to cut out, no matter how much it hurt to keep him there.          

 

* * *

 

Months passed, during which Arthur worked hard to give Gwen everything that she needed.  They seemed to reach a tentative peace, and fighting stopped – more because Arthur had decided not to argue any more than because there were no longer any problems.

He just felt so _empty_.  Was this what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life?  Stilted, formal conversations across their tiny dining room table?  What if they never had children?  Could he really stand to live like this forever?  

 

* * *

 

_Arthur was trying to tell me something about Gwen today, and I don’t think I was a very good listener.  He said that he isn’t happy.  All I did was tell him that marriage can be hard work and he needs to stick it out._

_But tonight I remembered something.  Before their wedding, Gwen’s father and I had a long discussion about whether our kids were actually ready to be married.  Tom thought that they were too young and that Gwen wasn’t mature enough to commit to someone for the rest of her life.  He was worried that Gwen was the kind of girl who needed the stability of a relationship and was only marrying Arthur so that she wouldn’t have to be alone.  I told him not to worry – my son was going to take care of Gwen for the rest of their lives.  He would stick with her, no matter what.  That’s the way I raised him._

_Is this my fault?  Should I have told Arthur what Tom and I discussed?  Should I have insisted Tom speak frankly with Gwen?  Would things be different?_

_What if this is the problem that Tom was afraid of?  Is Gwen just sticking with Arthur because she’s afraid to be on her own?  Is Arthur just hanging on because he feels it’s his duty?_

_I was so in love with Igraine that it felt like a fairy tale.  Even when we fought, it was just for a few hours and things were back to normal again.  I think that what Arthur’s talking about is a much more serious problem._

_I don’t know what to think.  I don’t know how to talk to him.  I don’t know what kind of advice he needs, but I don’t want my son to be unhappy.  I don’t want to think that he’s only doing something because it’s what everyone expects him to do._

_I wish I had someone to talk to._

* * *

_Arthur is still so unhappy.  I feel like all the fire in him is gone.  Am I failing as a father?_

* * *

 

 

Uther’s very last journal entry appeared to have been written the day before he died. 

_I’m going to talk to Arthur tomorrow evening at dinner. ~~He can’t~~  I won’t let him go on living like this.  My boy doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone – he just needs to be happy.  _

Arthur ran his fingers over his dragon tattoo.  “Thank you, Dad,” he whispered. 

**Chapter Seventeen**

_Not with a bang_  
 _But with a whimper_  
 _Wasn’t hard_  
 _It was kind of simple_  
 _Three short steps_  
 _From your bed to your door_  
 _Darling, I can’t look you in the eyes now_  
 _And tell you I’m sure  
_ _That I love you anymore_

It didn’t end with a big scene in a crowded restaurant or in a screaming fight in their living room. 

Instead, Arthur and Gwen made the decision in the car, on the way home from delivering flowers to Tom’s and Uther’s graves.

Arthur was driving, and he reached over to place a hand on Gwen’s knee while keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Gwen, we have to talk.”

“Oh, no,” she said, “that’s never good.”

“I have to ask one question, and I need you to answer me seriously.  Then I’m going to talk, and I want you to listen and not interrupt.  Can you do that for me?”

“All right.”

“Gwen, are you happy?  I mean, when you think about our relationship, are you happy?”

She was quiet for nearly a full minute before she answered, “Well, no.  I try, and I know you’re trying, but I haven’t been happy for a long time.”

“I know.  And you have to know that I’m not happy, either.”  He took a deep breath and plunged ahead.  “When we got married, I was so in love with you.  I still love you, but I think that we got married too early.  We’ve both changed so much in the last ten years.”

He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, glad to be able to concentrate on driving and not having to face Gwen for this conversation. 

“I’m still here – I’m still trying to make this work – because I promised you that I would be.  ‘Till death parts us,’ right?  Everybody has always told me to never give up, and to fight for the things that are important to me.  Dad and Morgana convinced me to stick with our marriage, but I don’t think it’s fair to either of us at this point.  I’ll always love you, but I think that right now, the best thing for both of us is to think about separating.”

He had expected tears or shouting, not the calm determination that Gwen spoke with.

“I can’t say that I’m not upset, but I think you’re right.  I love you so much, Arthur, but you just don’t make me happy anymore.  I was so scared that you were going to leave me one day, and I thought that having a baby would bring us closer together, but I can see now that it would just be one more thing binding us both to a relationship we don’t want.”

“Gwen, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” she paused, as though carefully considering her words, “that you’re right.  We’ve both been clinging to this relationship for the wrong reasons, and I think it’s time to end it.”

Gwen squeezed his hand, and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling.  “I think it’s time we do something for ourselves.  Let’s give ourselves the chance to be happy again.”

Arthur was shocked.  Could it really be this easy? 

“Is…Gwen, is this it?  Are we over?”

“I think so.  And I hope it’s not too soon to say this, but I think that we’re one of those rare couples who might actually stay friends after breaking up.”

He felt himself grinning.  “You’re absolutely right.  I still want you in my life.  I’ve known you for almost fifteen years, and I just want to see you happy.”

As he made the turn onto their street, Gwen said, “You know what?  We are both the biggest idiots ever.  How long have you been feeling like this?”

He had to answer honestly.  “Years.”

“Same here.  I can’t believe we both let ourselves be miserable because we thought it was the right thing to do.  I can’t believe I’ve passed up opportunities like…” she trailed off. 

“Opportunities like what?  C’mon, if we’re going to stay friends, you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just…well,” she said shyly, “Morgana hired a new assistant in my department.  We’ve been going out to lunch together, and I’m really starting to like him.”

“Gwen, that’s great!”  He was surprised to discover that he truly meant it.  He really did want Gwen to be happy.  “What’s he like?”

“Well, um…you actually know him already.”

“Really?  Who is it?”

Her answer was so mumbled that he couldn’t understand her. 

“Sorry, what was that?  Who is this guy?”

Her voice was little more than a whisper, but this time he heard her.  “It’s your former student, Lance.”

Arthur couldn’t help himself – he snorted with laughter. 

“What?  Please don’t lecture me about cradle-robbing.  I know he’s a lot younger than me, but I really like him.”

Arthur was so glad that they had made it to their driveway.  He would have crashed for sure if he had been on the road when he started laughing as hard as he did.  Tears streamed down his face and his stomach ached, but he just couldn’t stop.  Every time Gwen defensively asked, “What?” he just laughed harder. 

“Arthur, I’m starting to get worried.  Are you going crazy?” 

He held up a finger, indicating that she should wait for him to calm down before he answered.  As his laughter died down, he managed to choke out, “It’s hilarious…it’s funny…it’s so funny because…because I fell for a student.”

Gwen looked a little hurt, but asked, “Do I know her?”

He threw his head back, no longer voicing the laughter, but it was still shaking his whole body. 

“It’s Merlin.  I’ve been in love with Merlin for years.” 

Gwen’s gasp was audible.  “Merlin?”  She paused to think for a few moments.  “I should have known.  So, will you go for him?  Maybe _both_ of us can be dating people who were still in diapers when we were old enough to learn how to drive.”

It was enough to stop his laughter completely. 

“Merlin has a boyfriend.  He’s not…we’re not…there’s nothing that could happen there.  We don’t even talk anymore.”

Having his soon to be ex-wife listen to his problems was one of the most surreal experiences of his life, and the situation became even stranger when Gwen wrapped him up in a hug and told him that, “Anything can happen.  It’s always seemed like Merlin wanted to be more than your friend.  If he’s what’s going to make you happy, you have to give it a shot.”

He squeezed Gwen tighter than he had in years and told her, “Thank you, Guinevere.  I love you.”

“Love you too, Arthur.  I always will.”

 

 

**Chapter Eighteen**

_But then I remember you_  
 _And the way you shine like truth in all you do_  
 _And if you remembered me_  
 _You could save me from the way I tend to be_

The divorce lawyer was shocked at how amiably Gwen and Arthur dissolved their marriage.  Their only shared asset, their house, was sold quickly.  Gwen chose to rent a luxury apartment near her office, and Arthur used his share of the profit to buy and renovate Uther’s house. 

It was strange to again be living in the house that he had grown up in, but it didn’t make him sad.  Instead, with each wall he painted, each light fixture he replaced, and each floorboard he carefully sanded, he felt a deep connection to his father, almost as though Uther were approving of the decisions he made. 

Morgana refused to speak to him, and the loss of his sister cut him more deeply than he could have ever imagined it would.  She had been a constant presence in his life, always supporting his decisions and pushing him to do his best.  It hurt him to realize that he was no longer able to call her or stop at her house after work, but his father had been right: he had to do what made _him_ happy. 

Determined to make himself happy in as many aspect of his life as possible, Arthur resigned from Avalon High and accepted a job teaching French and English at a university only half an hour away from his home.  Unlike at Avalon, Arthur actually had some power over his students, and the only students in his classes were ones who genuinely wanted to be there. 

The job was only part-time, so he wasn’t going to be making as much money as he had at Avalon, but he wasn’t in it for the money.  It would be more difficult making ends meet without adding Gwen’s salary to his, but he knew he would be able to make it on his own. 

A few months into the school year, Arthur accepted a second job as a consultant for a student exchange program.  He would finally be able to ensure that no student ever had to undergo something like Merlin had. 

Merlin.

Arthur and Merlin hadn’t spoken in over two years.  They were still friends on Facebook, but Arthur never saw Merlin post anything on the rare occasions he actually logged in.

He had tried so hard to forget Merlin, but it was as impossible as forgetting his own name.  Merlin had come to be such an important part of Arthur that he knew there would never be a day that passed without him wondering where Merlin was and how he was doing.  He knew that he could be the one to make the effort of reaching out – he could call or text – but he was honestly scared.  Scared that Merlin was intentionally removing himself from Arthur’s life, scared that he had done something to upset Merlin, scared that he might discover Merlin happily married – just scared. 

 

* * *

 

He was still in touch with Leon, who was now attending graduate school in Paris.  Arthur had already planned to spend his two-week winter break visiting friends in Marseille and Limoges, and it would be no trouble to take the train to Paris for the last day of his trip. 

The instant he saw Leon, curly strawberry-blond hair blowing in the wind, Arthur realized just how much he missed him and instantly wished that he had set aside more time to spend with his friend.  Unfortunately, he had just a few hours before he needed to head for the airport.  The spring semester began the following day, and there was no way he could miss the first day of classes.    

Leon was happy to talk about his graduate program and his experiences living in Paris, and Arthur was pleased to hear how much his former student had matured.  Always a bright teenager, he was now a well-rounded, independent young man, and Arthur was proud to know that he had played some small role in shaping Leon. 

“…and even Merlin thought that – ”

“What about Merlin?  Are you still in contact with him?”

“Uh, yeah – Merlin’s my roommate.  I thought you knew that.”

He tried to keep his voice from shaking.  “Merlin hasn’t spoken to me in over a year.”

Leon snorted.  “Well, you deserve it.  You did break his heart.”

All the sounds of the café were drowned out by the rushing sound in his ears. 

“What?” he hissed.

“Come on, Arthur, don’t play dumb.  You’re my friend, but Merlin is my _best_ friend, and what you did to him was really shitty.”

“Please just pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about and explain.”  He met Leon’s eyes, pleading, “Please.”

“Well, he kept thinking that he had a chance with you even after all that shit you pulled.  Like how you pretended to be all upset that you didn’t get to see him at his house, but then you went home and bragged about how happy you were with your wife.”

“I…Leon, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know, man, something about your super happy anniversary.  It was on Facebook.  It made him a little crazy.  He actually went out and slept with somebody because he figured that any chance he had of being with you was gone.”

Arthur was stunned.  “He what?” 

Leon plowed ahead.  “And then, the first time he ever had the balls to call you, you told him how great Gwen was and how you couldn’t live without her or something.”

He remembered that call.  He had been so touched that Merlin had reached out to him at a time when nobody else seemed to care or know what he needed.  And then, a few weeks later, Merlin decided not to come to school in the United States. 

“That wasn’t what I – ”

“And then you decided to have a baby.  Listen, I really respect you, but I can’t believe that you led Merlin on like this for so many years.”

When they started talking about a baby – that was when Merlin had begun dating Gilli. 

“But I didn’t – ”

“I mean, anybody could tell that he was so freaking in love with you that – ”

“Leon, listen to me!” he yelled, loudly enough that everyone else in the café turned to stare at them.  He fought the blush that was rising on his cheeks and lowered his voice.  “I have never once done anything to lead Merlin on.  I fucking _love him_ , and if I knew that he felt the same, I would have come to him in a heartbeat.  All those things that you’re talking about – they were just misunderstandings.  Gwen and I were fighting when she made that Facebook status about our anniversary.  It was some kind of passive-aggressive attack on me.  Then, when I told Merlin that I couldn’t live without Gwen, I was being sarcastic.  She didn’t help me at all when I was dealing with my dad’s death.  And the baby stuff?  We were only going to have a baby because I thought it would keep us together.  And I was only trying to keep us together because everybody convinced me that I was insane for wanting to be with Merlin.”

Leon’s jaw had dropped at Arthur’s proclamation of love, and he hadn’t managed to close it during Arthur’s lengthy speech. 

“You…you love him?”

“I do.  Since the first day I met him.”

Leon was angry now.  He waved his hands wildly as he spat out, “You know, that’s great, but there’s a big problem.  You’re _married_.  It doesn’t matter how much you love him.”

Arthur grabbed one of Leon’s fists and forced him to meet his eyes.  “Leon, Gwen and I have been divorced for almost two years.”

“Holy shit,” Leon breathed.  “You’re serious?”

“I am.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know if I should be doing this.  It doesn’t feel right.”

“Leon, please.”

It had taken a lot of pleading, but Arthur had finally convinced Leon to take him back to the apartment that he shared with Merlin, and now the possibility of seeing Merlin again after so long had him so flustered that he could barely think. 

Leon turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and yelled, “Merlin?  Hey, Emrys, you here?”

There was no answer. 

“Sorry,” Leon said, “I guess he’s not back from class yet.”

He had imagined his reunion with Merlin so, _so_ many times, but it had never been like this.  It had never been him and Leon just standing around, not even sure where Merlin was.       

Suddenly, he was struck with panic.  “Leon, how do you know that Merlin was in love with me?  Did he tell you?  And, wait – is he still dating that guy?”

Leon chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, obviously trying to make a decision.  Finally, muttering, “He’s going to kill me for this,” under his breath, he pointed at a closed door at the end of the hallway.  “Merlin’s room,” he said.  “Just check out his bulletin board.”

Arthur’s fingers closed around the doorknob before he even realized he was moving.  He paused and took a deep breath before opening the door, painfully aware of the fact that he was going to be closer to Merlin than he had been in more than five years. 

The room smelled like Merlin.  It was faint, but it was definitely there.  It reminded him of the sheets from Merlin’s bedroom in Austria, and he had to restrain himself from jumping onto Merlin’s bed and rolling around in the scent. 

But Leon had told him to look at Merlin’s bulletin board, had insinuated that he could find answers to his questions there.  Looking around, Arthur realized that the room was almost painfully bare.  The only decorations were tacked to the fabric-covered bulletin board in front of Merlin’s desk. 

And, oh – what he saw there both made him smile and broke his heart. 

The only things hanging on Merlin’s bulletin board were the picture of the two of them in the hot tub on the night of Merlin’s going-away party, the framed print of Renoir’s _Bal au Moulin de la Galette_ that Arthur had given him as a going-away present, and what appeared to be every Christmas and birthday card Arthur had ever sent him.  If Leon was right – if Merlin loved him – then Arthur had unintentionally hurt him so much. 

And even though there were no pictures of Merlin with Gilli, that didn’t mean that they weren’t still together. 

He was reaching out to open the card he had sent Merlin on his seventeenth birthday when he heard voices in the kitchen. 

Merlin was clearly upset.  “Who’s here?” he asked.  “And what do you mean, ‘Don’t get mad?’  What did you do?”

Leon didn’t answer, and Arthur heard Merlin’s footsteps move toward his bedroom.  Merlin flung the door open and froze in place. 

“Arthur?” he gasped.

Though Arthur hadn’t seen Merlin in five years, he would have recognized him anywhere.  His unruly near-black hair was styled a little more artfully than it had been in the past, and though he was still slender and long-legged, he now looked to be taller than Arthur.  His cheeks and the tip of his nose were red from the cold, and Arthur felt happiness flooding his body at the sight of this gorgeous young man.

He found himself unable to speak.  The only thing he could do was rush forward and fling his arms around Merlin.  And oh – finally having Merlin in his arms again felt like coming home.  Like there was nothing else in the world that mattered now that he had found his Merlin again. 

So excited was he to be touching Merlin that he didn’t immediately realize that Merlin was not returning his embrace.  Merlin’s hands hung at his sides, his back ramrod straight. 

“Merlin,” he whispered, “you’re here.  I can’t believe you’re here.  I missed you so much.  Please say you missed me, Merlin, please.”

At the “please,” Merlin’s whole body relaxed and he flung his arms around Arthur’s neck, squeezing until he was almost cutting off Arthur’s airflow.  Arthur didn’t care, though, not now that he had Merlin in his arms again. 

Merlin whispered back to him, as though unwilling to break the moment by speaking too loudly.  “I missed you.  I missed you every single day.  But you forgot about me.  Why did you forget about me?”

Arthur had to break the hug.  It was very important that Merlin was looking at him when he tried to explain. 

“Merlin, listen to me,” he said, pulling away so that while Merlin’s hands remained linked around his neck, they could look at each other.  “I _never_ forgot about you.  I am in love with you.  I have been for five years, and I always will be.”  

He could tell that Merlin was going to argue, and he attempted to cut him off. 

“Please don’t be angry with Leon, but he told me that you…well, that _you_ love _me_.  And I would give anything for that to be true.  He also told me that there have been a lot of misunderstandings over the past few years.”

Merlin shrugged.  “I don’t know about misunderstandings.  I just know that you hurt me so much.”

Arthur lifted his right hand to Merlin’s face, where he slid his thumb back and forth across Merlin’s cheekbone.  “And I didn’t even realize I was hurting you.  You have to let me explain.”

Merlin looked down and gave a tiny shake of his head.  “Arthur, I have a boyfriend.”

Of course he did.  Now Arthur would not only have to convince Merlin that he loved him, but that he loved him _more_ than this other guy did. 

“I know,” he said, finally stilling his hand.  “I know that – ”  

“And you’re married,” Merlin interrupted.

“I’m not.  Gwen and I have been divorced for almost two years.  She knows how I feel about you.”

Merlin jerked away from him, separating their bodies completely. 

“I don’t think that…how can I know that you are serious?” 

“You have to believe me,” Arthur insisted, reaching out to grab Merlin’s hands.  “ _I didn’t know, Merlin!_   If I had known that you felt for me anything like I felt for you, I would have come for you in an instant.”

Merlin didn’t drop his hands, but he didn’t look convinced. 

“This is too much for me right now.  I need some time to think.  Can you…will you please come back tomorrow?”

_Oh, shit._

“I – Merlin, I can’t.  I have to leave tonight.  Classes start tomorrow, and I can’t miss the first day.”

Merlin laughed, but it was a joyless sound.  “You come here and mess up my whole life – you tell me that you love me and then you leave?  And you want me to _trust_ you?  How…how can I?”

Arthur knew that he had just one chance to get this right. 

“Merlin, do you remember the night of your going-away party?  When Gwen was taking a picture of the two of us in the hot tub, you put your arm around my waist, and it took every bit of my willpower to stop myself from kissing you until our mouths were swollen.  I’ve wanted you since then – _five years_ , Merlin!  There’s been nobody for me but you since you walked into my classroom.”

He could sense the precise moment that Merlin started to believe him – his hands jerked under Arthur’s, and he took one hesitant step forward. 

Keeping their hands joined, Arthur brought them all up to tilt Merlin’s chin until they were eye to eye. 

“If you have ever trusted me, please believe me now.  If you’ll have me, I’ll be back as soon as I can.  Spring break is just a little over two months away.  If you want me, Merlin, I’ll come back.  Even if you only want me as a friend.  I just want to be a part of your life.”

Merlin was obviously struggling to remain composed.  His face was flushed, and he was blinking hard to hold back tears. 

“Do you want me to come back?” 

This was the most open, the most vulnerable, he could ever remember feeling.  Proposing to Gwen, his first job interview, his first day as a teacher – none of them were anywhere near as nerve-wracking as asking Merlin if he wanted Arthur to be a part of his life.

He couldn’t hold back a triumphant grin at Merlin’s tiny nod.  He leaned in pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek before separating their hands. 

“Arthur!” Leon bellowed from outside the door.  “You have to leave if you’re going to make it to the airport on time.”

Arthur cupped Merlin’s face in his hands, his fingertips just brushing the soft hair at his temples. 

“I’ll be back.  Thank you for giving me a chance, Merlin.”

 

 

**Chapter Nineteen**

_If you could just give me a sign, just a subtle little glimmer_  
 _Some suggestion that you'd have me if I could only make me better_  
 _Then I would stand a little stronger as I walk a little taller_  
 _All the time_

It took longer than he thought it would.  Arthur’s promise to return during spring break had been made before he realized that he was contractually obligated by his new employer to chaperone the foreign language honor societies’ annual club trip.  This year’s trip was to Japan, and while he truly appreciated the opportunity to visit new countries, he wanted to be with Merlin. 

Arthur had imagined that Merlin would at least reopen channels of communication between them, but he did not.  In fact, they only spoke once on the telephone over the span of four months – when Arthur had to tell Merlin that he was still coming, that he was sorry that he couldn’t keep his promise of being there during spring break, and that Merlin needed to please keep believing that Arthur loved him.

Merlin didn’t say much, and Arthur didn’t have the guts to ask whether or not Merlin and Gilli were still dating.  He considered asking Leon, but finally decided that Merlin had the right to privacy.  If he didn’t want Arthur to know, Arthur wouldn’t pry. 

So it was almost five months (in fact, it was four months, twenty-two days, and six hours) before Arthur returned to Paris and to Merlin.  And planning the grand gesture that he hoped would prove to Merlin how very serious he was about loving him took quite a bit of that time.

Arthur contacted every Parisian he knew, even people he had met just once or twice, in planning Merlin’s surprise.  He told everyone about his Merlin and pleaded for help.  Arthur loved Paris almost as much as he loved Merlin, and it seemed so very fitting that he should profess his undying love in his favorite place in the world. 

From what Leon had told him, Merlin hadn’t had much time for exploring the city.  His advanced degree programs (French _and_ psychology) took up nearly all of his time, and what little free time he had was spent sleeping, doing yoga, or visiting local cafes with Leon and students in his program. 

It made him sad to learn that Merlin simply didn’t have time to indulge in his passion for exploring and new experiences, so Arthur had decided to organize a scavenger hunt of sorts.  He wanted Merlin to see the city that he loved, and not just the tourist attractions. 

Arthur’s flight landed at Charles de Gaulle at 6:30am, Paris time.  The crossing of multiple time zones meant that it felt like midnight to him.  Nevertheless, he was ready to set his plan in motion.

He had enlisted Leon’s help in ensuring that Merlin finally had a free day with no homework or projects hanging over his head.  He wanted Merlin’s undivided attention, and he knew that he couldn’t get it if he was worrying about school.

He sent a quick text to Leon, confirming his arrival and his readiness to start his plan.  Leon was tasked with taking Merlin out for brunch at a café near their apartment.  At the end of the meal, the waiter (one of Arthur’s classmates from the summer institute at the Sorbonne) would present Merlin with a gift-wrapped box and tell him that it was from “a friend.”

There was only one thing in the box: a note from Arthur explaining that he had arranged a special day just for Merlin and that if he was willing to participate, Arthur would join him at the end of the day.

Arthur had, over and over again, made Leon promise to ensure that Merlin knew he was not in any way obligated to participate, and that Arthur would still want to see him (and be his friend again) even if he did not.  Even if Merlin could never love him, Arthur would still want him in his life.   

Putting aside the thought that Merlin might not want him, Arthur climbed the metro station stairs and smiled as he saw the text that he had just received from Leon.

_He’s in! A little nervous but he’s going for it!_

By following the directions in Arthur’s note, Merlin should have ended up in Montmartre, at the Mur des Je t’aime.  Located in a small park near the Abbesses métro station, the Mur des Je t’aime was a black, white, and red wall of tile mural featuring the words “I love you” written in 250 different languages.  As Merlin studied the wall, Arthur had arranged for his former roommate, Owain, to present Merlin with another gift-wrapped box.  Again, inside was a note:

_Merlin, you have owned my heart since the second day of school when you told the other students that I was having a bad day and played stupid animal videos for me.  There has never been anyone like you, never anyone I felt like this about, never anyone so damn perfect for me._

Attached to the note was a ticket to the Cluny, Paris’ medieval museum.  Arthur was, for once, lucky, as a traveling exhibition on Arthurian legend had just opened.  When Merlin was studying the huge tapestry depicting Arthur as a warrior king and Merlin as an aged wizard, Arthur’s former neighbor would hand over yet another note. 

_Don’t tell me you’ve never considered how our names have been linked for centuries.  It’s like we were meant to be together.  Please tell me I’m not alone in thinking this._

Arthur’s plan also sent Merlin to the Café des Deux Moulins (Merlin had written about his love of the film Amélie in one of his journals) to the Cimitière des Battignoles to see the grave of Merlin’s favorite poet, Paul Verlaine, and to the Arènes de Lutèce, an ancient Roman ampiheater.

The last stop on Merlin’s journey was to be the Fontaine du Palmier, near the Ile de la Cité.  It was Arthur’s favorite fountain – with four sphinxes spouting water from their mouths, how could anyone not love it?  But for Arthur, it was something that had happened here that made it such a special place.

Arthur had studied French for three years in high school before deciding to study abroad.  Like most foreign language students in the United States, he found himself completely in over his head.  Arthur and his classmates could conjugate, fill in worksheets, and write essays with the best of them, but their classes lacked a real oral communication component, so they found themselves woefully unprepared for the reality of using a foreign language twenty-four hours a day. 

His first weeks in Paris felt like time spent on a different planet.  He couldn’t understand anyone, he had to work hard to make himself understood, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.  However, Uther’s not-so-gentle reminder that “Pendragons never give up” had him determined to stick it out. 

Arthur and his host brother were walking to the Louvre (Morgana had actually shrieked at him over the phone when she heard he hadn’t planned on seeing the Mona Lisa) when they passed the fountain.  He had stopped, simply because it seemed so out of place in Paris with its Egyptian theme. 

It was while they were standing and staring at the fountain that the most important event of Arthur’s life took place.  He listened with half an ear to something that his host brother was saying about France’s ties to Egypt as two women nearby argued about the best metro route to their shopping destination and a group of children laughed at their baby-sitter’s joke.  Suddenly, it hit him – he could understand everything going on around him.  It was like something just _clicked_ and he could understand everything he heard.

It was such a powerful, moving moment for him that he knew he had to share it with Merlin.

That’s why right at that moment, Merlin was standing in front of that same fountain, listening to Arthur’s former host brother tell him that very story.  After he was done telling Merlin about Arthur’s profound change in worldview, he was supposed to give Merlin one last note. 

_That’s how it was with you, Merlin.  It was a series of moments that changed me.  One afternoon, I realized that I was attracted to you, and it shook me to the core.  It made me question everything I knew about myself._

_Then I discovered that I love you.  It terrified me, but it helped me to understand what I really need to be happy._

_I need you, Merlin._

_I love you, Merlin._

_If you believe me, please come to the Pont des Arts._

He had no idea how long he had been standing there on the pedestrian bridge, waiting for Merlin and the answer that was going to change his life, one way or the other.  It was almost midnight, and he was starting to panic.

He had sent Merlin all over the city, backtracking when it would have been easier to just visit each location in some sort of order.  However, part of his goal had been to give Merlin the chance to really enjoy the city.  He hoped that Merlin had appreciated it.  God, he hoped Merlin wasn’t annoyed or angry with him.  Had he come on too strong?  Had he seemed desperate and needy, or even laughable to Merlin?

There was nothing to do but wait and hope that he showed up. 

“Arthur?”

He could have cried in relief.  There was Merlin, looking more fiercely determined than Arthur had ever seen him.  His jaw was set, his posture was rigid, and his eyes were blazing.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.  “I though you weren’t going to come.”

Merlin’s only reaction was to launch himself at Arthur, flinging his arms around his neck and crashing their lips together.

As far as first kisses go, it was – well, it was terrible.  Arthur was so taken aback that he remained motionless, completely shocked.  Merlin was practically vibrating with nervous energy, and there was no finesse involved in his kiss.  In fact, it was less a kiss than it was a statement of intent, a declaration of Merlin’s desire.

“How could I not come?” Merlin asked, breaking the kiss.  “It’s you.  It’s always been you.”

“You mean,” Arthur trailed off, no wanting to misunderstand Merlin’s words.

“I mean I love you, I have for years, and I always will.”

Their second kiss was as wonderful as the first one was terrible.  Their lips met with such familiarity that it felt as though they had been kissing for years.  Arthur lost himself in it, so caught up in the moment and the magic and in _Merlin_ that when Merlin finally pulled away, Arthur chased Merlin’s mouth with his own, unwilling to let anything, even air, separate them.

“Stop,” Merlin laughed, “I have something else I need to say.”

That’s right, Arthur wasn’t done yet.  He had to stick to the plan. 

“Okay, but let me go first.  There’s still one more part of today that I planned – ”

“No.”  Merlin shook his head.  “No, Arthur, _I_ get to talk now.”

“But – ”

“Just listen.  Please.  Trust me.”  Merlin gave him a very pointed stare.  “I think that me being here tonight shows how much I trust you.  Now you have to trust me.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what was happening.  “Um, okay?”

“The reason that it took me so long to get here is that I figured out the last step of your plan.  Do you know how hard it is to find one of these at 11:00 at night?”

Smiling, Merlin pulled a silver padlock from his pocket. 

Merlin had guessed his plan, all right. 

It had become a sort of tradition in Paris for lovers to write their names on locks, clip them onto the bridge’s steel railings, and throw the keys into the Seine.  Arthur had a padlock and a marker in his own pocket, and wasn’t sure how he felt about Merlin appropriating his grand romantic gesture.

“This isn’t just about me anymore.  It’s not just about you.  It’s about _us_.  Together,” he said kindly, no doubt noticing the strained expression on Arthur’s face. 

“So let’s do this together.  Write our names on one, I’ll write our names on the other, and we can lock them together at the same time as we lock them onto the bridge.  Your lock that you probably carried with you from the United States, and mine that I convinced a bicyclist to sell me outside of some bar.  Both of them so different, like us, but now joined together.  Permanently.”

Arthur _absolutely_ did not cry as they wrote their names, joined their locks, and dropped the keys into the Seine before joining hands and starting to walk toward the Eiffel Tower. 

 

* * *

 

He had taken a risk by renting the apartment, but he knew that if by some miracle Merlin actually wanted him, he didn’t want to spend their first night together in some dingy, impersonal hotel room.  Instead, he had called in yet another favor and managed to rent a third-floor apartment with a balcony view of the Eiffel Tower. 

The owner of the rental company was one of his father’s business associates, and he was willing to let Arthur not only rent the apartment, but temporarily redecorate it as well.  Will and Freya (who were only too willing to help out when they heard Arthur talk about how much Merlin meant to him) had provided him with the names of Merlin’s favorite paintings, and Arthur already had some framed prints of Merlin’s favorite poems.  Every single thing hanging on the wall was something especially for Merlin. 

Arthur had also swapped out the plain white bedding for new sheets in Merlin’s favorite colors: blue and red.  He had filled the apartment with Merlin’s favorite flowers: carnations and Gerbera daisies.  (That information was more difficult to get; he actually had to call Hunith.) 

And finally, on nearly every flat surface in the apartment, Arthur had placed candles.  Before he left for the Pont des Arts, he had experimented with different lighting schemes, finally settling on just a few around the perimeter of the rooms and more around the bed.

So when he and Merlin walked hand-in-hand through the door, Arthur wasn’t sure what to expect.  He had tried so hard to make everything perfect for Merlin, but Merlin had already proven once that he wasn’t interested in Arthur’s perfect planning. 

The combined light of the streetlamps and candles made the room glow gold, everything bathed in warmth.  Arthur snuck a glance at Merlin and was secretly thrilled to find him staring, open-mouthed, at the work he had done. 

“You…,” Merlin asked, “you did this all for me?”

With a gentle tug, Arthur led Merlin to the couch, sitting and pulling Merlin down next to him. 

“I just wanted tonight to be spec – ”

Before he could even finish the sentence, Merlin’s lips were on his.  There was no gentleness to this kiss, only a need so frantic that Arthur could feel him practically vibrating with it.  Without stopping to separate their mouths, Merlin moved to straddle Arthur’s thighs.  It gave Merlin a height advantage over him, and he used his full weight to pin Arthur to the cushion.  

Arthur couldn’t help the small moans that slipped out of his mouth when Merlin began to grind down against him, his cock a hard line against Arthur’s, causing sparks to flash across his field of vision.  Their mouths never stopped moving, lips and tongues dueling for control of the kiss. 

It had never been like this with Gwen.   

He was amazed at how normal, how _right_ it felt.  He wasn’t sure what he had expected, maybe some awkwardness at the realization that he was doing this with a man for the first time, but the feeling of a fully-clothed Merlin pressed against him, body rocking against his, was the single most erotic experience of his life. 

Suddenly painfully aware that his arms were simply hanging at his sides, Arthur slid his hands up Merlin’s forearms to grip his biceps.  As though it were some sort of signal that Merlin had been waiting for, he dropped any restraint he might have been holding onto and suddenly, his hands were all over Arthur.  

Arthur couldn’t decide what he liked best; it was all happening too fast.  Merlin’s hands skated back and forth from the nape of his neck to his arms to the small of his back to the sides of his face.  Arthur dropped his hands to Merlin’s waist, squeezing for a moment before reaching back and up under the shirt to feel the smooth skin of Merlin’s back. 

Merlin’s moan at the first skin to skin contact had Arthur wondering if he was going to last long enough to get his pants off, or if this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly.  Kissing Merlin, caressing the soft skin of his back, lifting his hips to grind against Merlin – he was so overwhelmed that it was as though he were sixteen again, full of urges that he didn’t really know what to do about.

Feeling bold, Arthur slipped his hands into the back of Merlin’s pants, grabbing his naked ass as he thrust his hips up forcefully.  The pressure and friction were delicious, and Arthur wasn’t sure which one of them let out the long, low moan, but it only served to push them on.  Though he didn’t think it possible, every kiss and every caress suddenly seemed ten times more intense. 

Merlin leaned back, separating their mouths with a slick squelching sound that Arthur would be embarrassed about later, but couldn’t focus on now as Merlin pressed their foreheads together and said, “This couch isn’t very comfortable.”

Arthur swallowed, suddenly nervous.  He wanted everything to be perfect for his Merlin, but he wasn’t sure what it was going to be like.  What if he didn’t enjoy it?  What if Merlin didn’t like it?  What if he did something wrong?

Summoning up all of his courage, Arthur whispered, “We could move to the bedroom.”

Merlin smiled.  “I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Feeling a little dazed, Arthur allowed Merlin to take him by the hand and hurry him to the apartment’s small bedroom. 

As soon as they made it through the doorway, Merlin dropped his hand to shrug out of his shirt.  It was a maneuver that could have been extremely sexy, but it was ruined when, in his eagerness, Merlin managed to tangle the shirt around his neck, some of the fabric covering his face. 

Arthur snorted a laugh and stepped forward to help.  “A little excited, are we?” 

Merlin’s face and ears were bright red when they finally managed to extricate him from his shirt’s clutches.  “Sorry.  It’s just that it’s _finally_ –”

“I know,” Arthur told him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.  “I know.  We’re finally here.”

Keeping his eyes locked on Merlin’s, Arthur said, “Let me,” as he reached for the clasp of Merlin’s belt.  It was no longer a frantic race for nudity as they peeled the clothing away from each other’s bodies.  Instead, the way they ran their hands over each bit of skin revealed was reverent, almost worshipful. 

Merlin was just as beautiful as Arthur had imagined he would be.  Though he had seen Merlin shirtless that night in the hot tub, it had been dark, and the moonlight wasn’t bright enough to see Merlin’s body in anything but contrasts: light skin and dark hair.  Tonight, the candlelight cast a gentle glow over everything, allowing Arthur to look his fill.  And oh – now he never wanted to stop looking. 

Merlin had grown into his lanky limbs, and now he stood just a little taller than Arthur.  He had the graceful build and lean muscles of a runner or a diver.  He had just a few curls of hair on his chest, and the hair thickened just below his navel, flowing down into a thick nest of dark curls around his long, thin cock.

But it was Merlin’s skin that he couldn’t stop staring at.  Though he knew he was in danger of sounding like a character in a cheesy novel, _porcelain_ was the only word to describe it.  Merlin’s skin was milky white and flawless, and Arthur was struck with the desire to touch every bit of it, to memorize the texture with the tips of his fingers.

They had undressed each other in silence, and neither of them seemed in a hurry to change that.  The only noises in the room were the glide of skin against skin and the faint sound of traffic from just outside their window. 

“Oh,” Merlin whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he reached out to almost touch the tattoo on Arthur’s chest.  “You…I can’t believe you did this.”

“Well,” Arthur said, “I needed something new.  And meaningful.”

The tattoo that Merlin had seen that night in the hot tub had been a small, simple heart with Gwen’s name and the date of their wedding written around the edges.  After their marriage ended, Arthur knew that he couldn’t keep it, but he wasn’t sure how to change it. 

It had actually been Gwen’s suggestion to replace the heart with a merlin.  Arthur had spent nearly an entire paycheck on the photorealistic bird that now covered half of his chest. 

“Do you like it?” Arthur asked, eyes trained on the floor.  He wasn’t sure how Merlin was going to react, but he hadn’t really done it for Merlin.  He had done it for himself.  Whether Merlin had wanted to be with him or not, he was still the single most important person in Arthur’s life.  Merlin had changed him fundamentally and he wanted to commemorate those changes with a tattoo. 

“I love it,” Merlin told him, his voice thick with emotion, his fingers still hovering over Arthur’s chest.  “It’s beautiful.” 

Naked, bodies just inches away from each other, Arthur began to worry.  He wasn’t sure if he should be the one to initiate things.  Yes, he wanted Merlin more than anything, but he had never been with a man before.  In fact, he hadn’t been with anyone but Gwen in almost fifteen years. 

Maybe Arthur made some sort of face that clued Merlin in on his discomfort, or maybe Merlin simply knew that he would have trouble taking that first step.  Whatever the reason, Merlin was the one to grab Arthur’s waist and pull their bodies flush against each other.  Arthur gasped at the sudden contact, feeling himself growing impossibly harder at the gentle nudge of Merlin’s cock against his. 

_Oh_ , it was good.  Better than good.  Just that little bit of contact had him ready to explode, completely unable to control himself as he captured Merlin’s mouth in a bruising kiss and thrust against him.  Merlin responded in kind, eagerly grinding his hips against Arthur’s as he moaned into their joined mouths. 

They ground against each other, becoming less and less able to hold back the quiet grunts and moans that escaped them, until Merlin couldn’t take it anymore and started walking them toward the bed.  Arthur’s knees hit the edge, toppling over and pulling Merlin down on top of him. 

Merlin seemed content to lead as he straddled Arthur’s legs, bending down and sucking marks into his neck.  They rutted harder and harder against each other, and while Arthur would have been perfectly content to do this forever, Merlin had other plans.  He slid back, forcing Arthur’s cock to slide against his ass.

“Arthur, will you?” Merlin whispered in his ear.  “Please?”

Swallowing hard and tucking his head against Merlin’s chest, Arthur had to ask, “But…don’t you think it’s too soon?”

Merlin lifted Arthur’s chin, forcing him to open his eyes and meet his gaze. 

“No.  I don’t.  I’ve been thinking about this for years.  I’m an adult, and I know what I want.”  He punctuated each sentence with a kiss.  “And what I want is _you_.”

“Show me what to do,” Arthur whispered. 

“Condoms?”

Even though his skin was already flushed, Arthur felt himself blush.  “Well,” he said, “I was tested at my last physical.  And I haven’t been with anyone for more than a year.  So, if you trust me…” he trailed off.

Merlin bent to kiss Arthur so hard that their teeth clacked against each other. 

“Arthur, there is no one in the world that I trust more than you.  I haven’t been with anyone for six months, and I have been tested.  So, if _you_ trust _me_ …”

“Of course,” Arthur breathed.     

Time seemed to be move strangely, leaping ahead so quickly that it was difficult to focus on anything.  One minute, Merlin was drizzling lube over Arthur’s outstretched hand, the next, Arthur’s fingers were pressed deep inside Merlin’s body. It seemed like only seconds later that Merlin was crouching over him, using one hand to guide Arthur’s cock into him. 

The pleasure he felt as he slid into Merlin was like nothing he’d ever experienced.  The _heat_ , that slick, impossibly tight warmth, made his breath catch in his throat.  The feeling, combined with the near constant stream of tiny moans pouring from Merlin’s mouth, had Arthur thrusting as deeply as he could, eager to hear what other sounds he could get Merlin to make. 

Opening eyes that he hadn’t even realized he had closed, he took in the incredible sight of Merlin riding him.  His head was thrown back, showcasing the long, pale column of his neck, and a fine sheen of sweat was starting to collect all over his chest.  But it was his muscles that Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away from.  From his chest to his thighs, all of his muscles clenched and released in one gorgeously undulating line.  

He lost himself in the slide of flesh into flesh for a few moments.  It was powerful, it was intense, it was thrilling – but it wasn’t enough.  Before he could help it, a frustrated whimper bled from his lips. 

Merlin stopped moving instantly.  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Arthur wasn’t sure how to articulate the problem.  He finally had everything he wanted, and it felt glorious, but it just wasn’t perfect.  It just wasn’t as good as it he knew it _could_ be. 

“I don’t know,” he said, running his hands up and down Merlin’s sides, frustrated.  “I just…can we…”

Merlin’s brow creased in worry.  “Arthur, please tell me.  What do you need?”  He cupped Arthur’s face, slipping his fingers into the sweaty hair at the base of Arthur’s neck. 

And just like that, Arthur knew what he wanted.

“Closer.  I want us to be closer.”

Merlin smiled and climbed off Arthur, hissing as Arthur slipped out of him.  “I’ll go wherever you want.  Just tell me.”

Opting to show Merlin instead of telling him, Arthur pulled Merlin down next to him, turning them both onto their sides and pressing Merlin’s back against his chest. 

This time, when he slid into Merlin, he was able to wrap his arms around him and press kisses to his neck and shoulders.  He thrust once, experimentally, realizing that it would feel different in this position, and –

_Oh, fuck_.  This was – there were no words for this.  Instead of the hard thrusts and heavy breathing of porn, this was slow, sinuous flexing of their hips, bodies pressed together in a long, hot line. 

This was what he had been waiting for; this was the deep connection he’d always been searching for. 

It felt like coming home. 

He neared his peak quickly, his arms tightening around Merlin’s chest as he panted into that silky black hair.    

“Merlin,” he gasped, “Merlin, I love you.”

Orgasm didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks, and he didn’t feel compelled to scream, nor did he nearly black out from the pleasure.  Instead, it rose up through his body like a tidal wave that he had no chance of outrunning.  He felt it from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, a scalding hot wash of ecstasy that burned him from the inside out, locking his muscles and squeezing his eyes so tightly shut that he saw shooting stars behind his closed eyelids. 

The sensation was so intense that he couldn’t speak for a long while; in fact, he couldn’t do anything but squeeze Merlin tighter and try to return his breathing to normal.  It took him some time to realize that Merlin was squirming around him.

Embarrassed, Arthur reached down and confirmed his fears.  “I’m so sorry!  You didn’t…”

“Shh,” Merlin told him.  “It’s fine.  Just roll over.”

It wasn’t until he was settled on his other side, an arm propping up his head, that he realized what Merlin wanted.  He froze.  “Merlin, I don’t know if I’m ready to –”

Merlin interrupted him with a kiss.  “Just relax.  I will never ask you to do anything that makes you are not ready for.  Please trust me.”

He could hear the snap of the lube bottle opening and the squelching sound of Merlin slicking himself.

“Trust me,” Merlin repeated as he slid his cock between Arthur’s thighs.  “Squeeze your legs together.”

As Merlin started to thrust, Arthur was too caught up in his own post-orgasm lassitude to really enjoy it.  But after a few moments, he was able to appreciate the slick slide of Merlin’s body against his and the strength of Merlin’s arms around him.  He had never felt more comfortable, more at ease, or more loved than he did in that moment, the long, hot line of Merlin’s body pressed against his back.

It took fewer than twenty slippery, wet thrusts for Merlin to groan, “Ah, Arthur,” against his neck and go still. 

He could feel Merlin’s heartbeat and tracked its change in pace from frantic to more normal as they relaxed against each other, Merlin kissing Arthur’s neck, his ears, his cheeks – any part of him that he could reach without moving. 

“We should shower,” Merlin finally said, releasing Arthur to stand up.

They crammed themselves into the tiny shower stall, quietly washing each other and trading increasingly sleepy kisses.  When they finally extinguished all of the candles and curled up in bed, Arthur’s head against Merlin’s chest, Merlin whispered, “I can’t believe we had to wait for so long.”

Arthur, almost asleep, pressed a kiss to his chest and murmured, “Doesn’t matter.  We’re together now.  And I’m never letting you go again.”

   

       

**Chapter Twenty – Epilogue**

_You stood apart in my calloused heart_  
 _And you taught me and here’s what I learned_  
 _Love is all about the changes you make  
_ _And not just three small words_

“Thank _you_ for coming,” Arthur heard Merlin say as he came through the front door, probably speaking to their elderly downstairs neighbors, Madame Sophie and Madame Hélène.  He could also hear Merlin hanging up his coat and stowing his bag in the small closet by the door before moving down the hallway toward Arthur’s home office. 

“Hi!  How was your day?”

“What,” Arthur asked, faking a pout, “no kiss?  It’s only been a week and you’re tired of me already?”

“Never tired off you,” Merlin told him, spinning Arthur’s chair around so that they were facing each other.  “Never tired of you,” he repeated and bent down to kiss Arthur until they were forced to separate, gasping quietly for air. 

“I missed you so much,” Arthur said as soon as he caught his breath.  “Anyway, my day.  It was strange not having you around.  I guess I just got used to spending every single minute together on the honeymoon, and it was really hard to go back to work.” 

“But work was okay, right?”

Arthur nodded.  They had both worried about taking time off for a honeymoon when their new business was still in its infancy, but there didn’t seem to have been any major problems in their absence.  Leon had proven himself to be a good manager.   

“I met the nicest family today.  They are so excited about the program, and I think that whichever student they get will love living with them,” Merlin said, smiling that same smile that had drawn Arthur in almost ten years earlier. 

Their new business, Camelot Exchanges, was already being hailed as revolutionary by students and school districts alike.  The foreign exchange programs that they planned were unlike anything Merlin had experienced: host families were questioned as to their motives behind hosting a student and were subject to random staff visits, each student had 24/7 access to an exchange counselor, and any school offering to host a foreign exchange student was thoroughly investigated.  Their focus was on providing a rewarding, possibly life-changing experience for the exchange student.

Merlin had been doing the majority of the traveling.  He interviewed families, visited schools, and talked to students in the communities.  Arthur was working primarily from home, arranging meetings and reviewing applications.  Leon was in charge of training and managing their staff of counselors. 

“I wanted to show you this,” Merlin told him, handing him a small, blue envelope.  “It’s our first piece of mail with our new names on it.”

And so it was.  The card was addressed to _Arthur and Merlin Pendragon-Emrys._

“You open it,” Arthur told him, returning the card to Merlin.  He watched as Merlin carefully ripped open the seam of the envelope and slid out a card decorated in baby bottles and pacifiers.  

“Who do we know that’s having a baby?” Merlin wondered aloud. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart, why don’t you just open it?”

Merlin, predictably, took his time, running a finger over the embossed letters reading _Here Comes Baby_ on the front of the card before finally flipping it open. 

Merlin’s grin returned as he read the inside of the card and handed it to Arthur.

“Gwen and Lance?” he whispered, looking up at Merlin.  “They’re having a baby?”  He could feel moisture forming at the corners of his eyes and had to blink rapidly to prevent tears from sliding down his cheeks. 

Merlin was on his knees in front of him in an instant.  “Arthur, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not…it’s just…” Arthur struggled to express himself.  He lost the battle against the tears and thrust his arms out blindly for Merlin, who immediately pulled him into an embrace. 

Arthur was silent for a long while, just breathing in the smell of laundry detergent and Merlin.  He tucked his head against Merlin’s chest and Merlin’s hands came up to sift through his hair and gently rub the back of his neck. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Merlin asked again.

Arthur took a deep breath, willing himself to stop crying.  When he finally spoke, his voice came out in what sounded almost like a sob, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had been less sad. 

“All of us.  Everyone is finally happy.”

Merlin squeezed him tighter.  “Everyone deserves to be happy, Arthur.  _You_ deserve to be happy.  I’ve been trying to tell you that since the first day we met.”

He hooked a finger under Arthur’s chin and pulled his head up so that he could brush the tears from under his eyes. 

“Ich liebe dich,” Merlin told him.1

“You know I still don’t speak German,” Arthur laughed.  “Je t’aime, Merlin.”1

That night, eighteen foreign exchange students went to sleep happy with their host families, happy with their schools, and above all, thrilled with their decision to spend a year studying in a foreign country.  None of them realized that they owed their happiness to the life-altering meeting of a sixteen-year-old Austrian boy and the teacher who cared more about him than anything else in the world. 

 

Notes:

1\. I love you.

 

 

Quotes opening each chapter are lyrics from songs by Frank Turner.   
1\. Anymore  
2\. Recovery  
3\. Telltale Signs  
4\. The Fisher King Blues  
5\. We Shall Not Overcome  
6\. Losing Days  
7\. Anymore  
8\. Polaroid Picture  
9\. Plain Sailing Weather  
10\. “  
11\. Recovery  
12\. Good & Gone  
13\. Plain Sailing Weather  
14\. The Fisher King Blues  
15\. Wherefore Art Thou Gene Simmons  
16\. Anymore  
17\. “  
18\. The Way I Tend to Be  
19\. Recovery  
20\. The Way I Tend to Be

 

THANK YOU FOR READING!


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